


Trees With No Roots Yield No Fruits

by Perpetualstranger



Series: One Man's Freedom is Another's Destruction [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Brief Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Canon, F/M, Falcon Is Not a Third Wheel, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly MCU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Captain America: Winter Soldier, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Spoilers, Tags May Change, Three Amigos Out to Get Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perpetualstranger/pseuds/Perpetualstranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, Sam and Steve part ways with Natasha in order to find the Winter Soldier. When their plans are futile, they seek out Natasha to help and the three of them start a man hunt for the Winter Soldier before the weapon gets in the wrong hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned, Cap 2 Spoilers. This fic is what I would like happen next in the story. It has no affiliation with Captain America 3. I don't own anything. 
> 
> This is one of many stories like these popping up I presume. I actually shipped Natasha/Steve before I saw the movie, and had some things planned. After watching the movie though, it gave me the inspiration I needed. 
> 
> Sorry for any typos.

Natasha found herself hiding out in Cairo, Egypt. She had just got back from a gala to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Russia's trade with Egypt. It was being held by Artur Kilgore, one of Natasha's old Red Room handlers that had gotten a hold of her whereabouts when she posted her history on the web. He thought she had died in the nineties after another field agent reported her MIA during a sting operation gone wrong. He had sent her a message, more like a highly trained assassin sent to one of SHEILDs supposedly non-compromised safe houses. The operative's fighting styles matched that of her own training, and after Natasha had taken care of the woman by sending a brutal blow to the knee and snapping her neck, she proved her suspicions correct. A tattoo resembling that of her Black Widow logo marked the woman's shoulder. Natasha had hers removed once she joined SHIELD as one of their ways of knowing where her allegiance lied. Now her allegiance lied solely with herself. No Red Room. No SHIELD. Just Natasha. And even she wouldn't use that name anymore when she went in public. She took care of Kilgore and almost stayed to dance. But her face was too recognizable and she wasn't as confident as she used to be. She made her way through the late night crowds of people trying to sell her silk shawls and goats slung on their shoulders. When she made it back to her temporary living space, Natasha allowed herself to exhale in relief before changing clothes.

"Where have you been for the past three months Natasha? You went completely off the grid." Steve burst into the room with Sam following in tow. Natasha was halfway through the process of zipping her dress off when they barged in. She whipped around to see who it was that busted into her place. The only indication of surprise was when her lips parted open in surprise before quickly tightening into a frown when she saw who it was. "Don't mind me. Keep doing your thing." Sam waved for her to continue in a sly yet innocent manner. "Good to see you too, Wilson." Natasha lips formed a crooked smirk and the only sound in the room was the zipper being tugged upwards. "Oh, so you and I aren't on a first name basis anymore?" He stepped forward and leaned against the vanity she was standing in front of. "After all we've been through?" He was playing it off as a joke, but their was a sincerity in his eyes that hoped he hadn't lost her, even though he never had her in the first place. She returned his hopeful gaze with her best apathetic glare, her soft features not expressing any emotions. "Damn that's cold." Sam shook his head and muttered under his breath before moving to look out the window.

"So you're blonde now?" Steve came behind her after patiently watching Sam's attempts at flirting and reconciliation. Natasha met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror she stood before. "I happen to be a lot of things, Rogers." She turned to face him and found herself backed against the vanity, staring back at the merciless glare she'd seen Steve fix on the toughest criminals. She chuckled at that thought, at how much had changed in three months. How the man who once said he would trust her with his life was staring at her like he did with all the other scum of the world. "What's happened to you?" Steve hesitated before placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder which settled on the back of her neck. He tried to ignore the way she tensed up when he touched her, as if she didn't trust his hands that had felt her so many times before. "How come you never contacted us?" Steve lost any pretenses of sternness, it melting away in exchange of confusion and hurt. Sam removed himself from the view of civilians carrying boxes on their heads and taxis whizzing past them to join in again. "I put my number into your speed dial, so there's no excuse." Steve's hand slipped away at the sound of his partner talking, he almost forgot he was even there.

"New me. New phone." Natasha rifled through a purse sitting atop her vanity and held out a disposable flip phone for them to see. "And how's that working out for you? Have you been successful-" Sam waved his hands in the air as he tried to think up the right words. "in finding yourself?" These words spoken in a surprisingly serious tone caused Natasha's chest to deflate as her gaze flickered between the two concerned men standing before her. "The whole business of self discovery and reinvention is a lot more glamorous in the movies. They don't tell you that is also hurts like hell." Sam was the first to break the hard silence with a chuckle. "You tryin' to tell me this isn't glamorous? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?" He held Natasha's shoulders and turned her around so she was looking in the mirror. "Am I right Steve?" Sam jerked his head towards the Captain as a way of getting his attention. "Yeah- You look like a vision." Steve's words were distant as he looked upon her. Natasha's hair was blonde now as Steve noted, long waves cascading down her tender shoulders. Full lips matched the color of her red satin dress which hugged against her body in a sinful manner. But instead of blushing at the compliment or bestowing a thankful kiss on the cheek as Sam hoped for her to do, Natasha just turned away.

"Not looking at myself in the mirror makes doing the things I have to do a whole lot easier." Steve shook his head in frustration at her words. Natasha left him to be free from her past life, not to continue doing the things she wished to rid herself of. "You don't have to do anything Natasha." He stalked over to her where she stood in front of the open window. She whipped her head towards the man approaching her and her hands immediately clenched into fists at her sides. "You could have stayed with us." Steve hated having to speak to her like a wounded animal, but he hated even more the way her face tightened in disgust. "I wouldn't have been safe." Natasha hissed at him, her eyes moving frantically about his conflicted face. "Unlike you, I'm no boy scout-" "I'm not a damn boy scout either and you know it!" His hand clamped down on her arm and jerked her a little. "Hey now, hold up guys." Sam raised his hands in the air and approached the two. He hated having to treat them like hostile soldiers he would counsel instead of his friends. Sam's words brought reason back to the Captain and he exhaled defeatedly. "I would've kept you safe." Steve spoke with intense earnestness that bled from his voice to his eyes. The grip on her arm loosened and his arm fell limply by his side. Steve wanted to kiss away the tremor from Natasha's lips as she fought with herself to stay silent.

"The first thing you said when you forgot to knock was that I've been off the grid for three months." Natasha silently congratulated herself for steeling away any emotions and appearing more apathetic and confident than how she actually felt. "Three months is a long time for people like us," Natasha began to circle around the two men like she would when interrogating criminals and hostages alike. Steve recognized this technique, having watched her countless of times in the recordings. "So, why come to me now?" Her chest tightened in anticipation for a response, though she merely crossed her arms over her chest and held her breath. Silence filled the room again and the outside world of car honks and kids hollering on the street substituted it. Sam shook his head awkwardly and looked down at his boots. "We need you." Steve finally blurted out and immediately Natasha chuckled dryly at their desperation. She knew it was nothing but an unfulfilled fantasy, but once in a while she would have liked someone to stop by because they wanted to see Natasha, not the Black Widow. " _You need me?"_ She muttered to herself incredulously and looked up at the moldy ceiling.

"Yes Natasha, we need you so bad. You don't even know how hard it's been." Sam began to ramble and plead with her. "We've been searching for this Winter Soldier fella who good old Captain America here thinks can have a change of heart!" He waved at Steve frustratedly. "We've been living on egg protein shakes and MREs, the man doesn't sleep so he does push ups at three in the morning, he refuses to use the GPS and I haven't been with a girl ever since we started this shitty man hunt!" Sam was out of breath by the time he finished his rant. "I'm not helping you on that last part Wilson." Natasha's lips tugged upwards momentarily and he began laughing and patting Steve on the back. "So you'll help us find Bucky?" Steve pushed Sam aside once he started doing a happy dance. "To you he may be Bucky, but to me, he'll always be James." There was a subtle level of nostalgia that lined Natasha's voice, it seemed softer as she uttered the name. Immediately, her eyes hardened again and she looked back up to Steve. "I'll help you guys find him, whoever he is now." Her lips tightened to stop herself from saying anymore before she turned back to the mirror and unclipped the diamond necklace around her slender neck as if she hadn't been interrupted in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat, Steve, and Sam prepare to head out to Kiev where the Winter Soldier was last spotted. Not without hijacking a plane and a big breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Canon-typical violence towards the end. Nothing too serious. Brief mention of blood.
> 
> Sorry for any typos, there was a buttload of them in the first chapter.

"So why Egypt?" Sam asked with a mouthful of cereal. "I mean, it's not exactly a good hiding spot with all these civilians running about. Someone's bound to recognize ya." He wiped a stream of milk that dripped from his mouth and Steve scowled at the sight. "That's exactly why Cairo is the perfect place." Natasha stopped packing and looked over her shoulder at him. "It's easy to get lost in a crowd." With that, they finished eating breakfast in silence while Natasha gathered the few belongs she had left. "Also, Banner has been working on some new project down in Minya so I crashed at his place for a bit." Steve subtly tensed up at her confession, the grip on his metal spoon tightening to the point it bent slightly. Natasha had claimed she wouldn't have been safe with him, yet she sought refuge with Bruce? The man who tried to kill her, albeit unintentionally. If anybody noticed Steve's uneasiness, no one commented on it. When you're surrounded by a highly observant counselor who spots stress for a living, and a spy trained to read people's weakness and assess every detail about them, it was sort of hard not to be noticed.

"So, do you want to catch Natasha up on what we've been doing, or do you want me to?" Sam's spoon clanked as he set it inside his empty bowl, eyes flickering between the unreadable spy and stressed out soldier. It was times like these where he actually felt normal compared to those two. "You do it." Steve's chair scraped loudly against the tile floor as he stood from the table. He noticed that the tiles were unnaturally clean compared to the rest of the dingy apartment. He remembered how after an unsuccessful mission in Morocco, Natasha spent the whole night on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub clean. "I'm going to take a shower before we leave." Natasha turned in her chair and confusedly watched Steve make his way to the small bathroom. "Leave for where, Steve? Where are we going?" He stopped in front of the door with his hand on the knob. "Kiev, like you said." He wore a small smile written with nostalgia as he remembered their last meeting before they split ways. The file from some vague friend from Kiev. The kiss on the cheek that had the potential for something more. And a witty forewarning. The whole thing read like the 1960's spy novels Brumlow let him read on the long flights home from missions. "Sam should be able to catch you up on everything by the time I'm finished." He looked to Sam to see if he understood and was greeted with a cheesy salute. Sam eyeballed the bathroom door to make sure it was closed before whipping back to Natasha.

"Do you know what his problem-" Her slender index finger pressed against his lips to shut him up and Sam's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. She waited until she heard the rattle of the shower curtain being pulled and right after, the water running before taking her finger away and allowing him to talk. "Steve can be brooding, but we don't have time to talk about that right now. Save the counseling until after the mission." Natasha's voice was calm, emitting no hostility, or anything at all really. It was somewhat unnerving how she could change at a flip of the switch like that and not even show signs of slipping. Everything was smooth and calculated with Natasha, and painfully so. "Right." He drew out the word awkwardly as he tried to get a read on her. After a couple of seconds of intense eye contact, he gave up trying to understand her in place of finding the file on the Winter Soldier. "You remember this guy?" Sam tossed the file open in front of her and noticed her careful facade slip momentarily, just a brief flicker of pain, a subtle twitch of the eyebrows, before she steeled her emotions away. "Of course. What have you got on him?" Sam simply gestured to the file in response and it took a moment for Natasha to realize why it wouldn't take long for Sam to catch her up.

"You mean to tell me that all the information you have on him is just the file I gave you?!" Now Natasha's voice had some edge to it. It shouldn't have made Sam feel calm considering what he'd seen the woman do to certain people when she was on edge, but at least he felt like he was talking to someone human. "Listen, we've been trailing this guy all through Europe for the last three months, and all we get is next to nothing. Unrecognizable slugs that resemble those that supposedly killed Fury," He pulled out a plastic bag with three mud caked rifle shells. "And that's about it. When we had Ballistics analyze these and-" "No matches found. Right?" Natasha cut him off, she herself getting those same results time and time again when she tried to find the Winter Soldier. A solemn nod of the head was more than enough of an answer. "Anything else?" She pressed on, toes curling and fingers tightening in her lap as she watched Sam bite his lip and sigh heavily. "Nothing substantial." He thought back to the three months that felt like hell and began to roll his eyes and chuckle frustratedly. "I swear it's like we're chasing a ghost or something!" She wanted to say that's the way they were trained to be. That hiding came naturally for people like them. But instead, she slumped back in her wooden chair and rubbed the temples of her forehead to ease the tension. The bathroom door suddenly whipping open caused her to jump in her seat. She turned to see Steve already dressed in a brown leather jacket and dark wash jeans.

"Natasha, are you going to be traveling like that?" Steve eyed her appearance as he tugged his fingerless gloves on. At first she was offended by his comment, until she looked down and realized she was still in her cotton shorts and a tee shirt. "Right." Natasha stood gracefully from her chair and stood in front of him. "Sam was just catching me up on all the _progress_ you guys made." The snide remark earned a muffled chuckle in the background from Sam which died down when Steve shot him a deadly glare. He made his way to the small bedroom in the back and found Natasha shimmying out of her small shorts and letting them pool by her ankles. He watched her walk to the other side of the room where a wooden dresser was and pull out a pair of jeans. "Do you want to pick out my clothes for me since you didn't like what I was wearing before?" She looked over her shoulder at him and wore a playful smirk. It was reminiscent to the time she was leading he and Banner through the helicarrier and she smirked at how lost they both looked. He'd seen show girls in revealing outfits or the very few women he allowed himself to sleep with in varying stages of naked. But Natasha standing in front of him in an old Ramones tee shirt (she told him to add the band to his list) and her nude colored panties was different. She didn't demand his attention.

Before Steve could muster the courage to ask Natasha more about Bucky, Sam entered the room and plopped down on the bed. "What is this?" Natasha turned around and gestured to Sam and Steve who didn't seem to have any intentions of leaving. "I don't come into your rooms and watch you change." Steve's eyebrows shot up in surprise at how simply Natasha slid into those tight jeans she always wore, but realized that must be a piece a cake compared to her catsuit. "I'm not stopping you from coming in." Sam gave a casual shrug and his comment was rewarded with a tee shirt being thrown in his face. He pulled it off his head and found she already slipped a black tank top on. "Alright boys, let's go." Natasha left the bedroom with Steve and Sam in tow. She plucked her apartment keys from off the kitchen table and laced up her leather boots. "How are we supposed to get to the loading docks in fifteen minutes?" Steve swiped the raggedy curtain draped over the steel barred window away and looked out at all the cars, camels, and street vendors that filled the narrow streets. "Look at all the traffic. It's worse than New York on New Year's Eve." He muttered to himself before realizing the others had already left.

* * *

Thanks to an eccentric taxi driver Natasha befriended, they managed to make it to the loading docks before departure. Steve pulled out his shield and slung it on his back as the trio approached the cargo plane A1Z-F149 that they would hitch a ride on. Natasha knew a few words in Arabic that she picked up from living in Egypt, but 'we're commandeering this plane' wasn't in her vocabulary. Steve motioned for Sam to check if the anyone aboard was armed when Natasha noted that the loads of salt being hauled onto the plane had to be heavily guarded. Sam leaned against the outside wall of the plane and peered inside. Three men were overseeing the whole operation with guns in hand, one checking the bags off as they entered the plane. Sam gave them an affirming nod that they were armed indeed. Natasha cocked her handgun and motioned for Steve to infiltrate the scene. Sam realized what the plan was as Steve and Natasha ran past him towards the plane. "What the hell am I supposed to-" His question was cut off when Natasha tossed him another handgun strapped to her thigh. They shared a secret smile for a moment before focusing back on the mission.

Steve entered the plane first with his shield as a barrier and a gun pointed at one of the armed men. Natasha and Sam came behind him with their guns trained on the other two. Immediately, the three men lifted their rifles and began shouting. Natasha kicked the rifle out of one of the armed guards and he retaliated by seizing her throat and slamming her against a metal cabinet. Natasha's face reddened and eyes welled with tears as she thrashed under the man's iron grip. She ignored how his face scrunched in fury, looking to see Steve bash one of the other guard's over the head with his shield and then swipe his feet off the ground. The image became blurry and Natasha gave up trying to send a kick or scratch the guard's hand. Sam came behind the man and yanked his shoulder so he would turn to him, his fist immediately connected with the guard's face. Natasha couldn't hear the sound of the man's jaw fracturing over rifle fire going off. The bullets ricocheted off Steve's shield and Sam took Natasha and ducked behind a bag of salt. One of the bullets nicked a bag and salt began to pour out and onto their heads. Steve managed to ram the shield into the last guard's stomach, causing him to double over from the force. He took the momentary relapse to grab the man by the lapel and throw him out of the plane. The guard that choked Natasha laid on the ground, holding his jaw in hand as blood oozed from his busted lip.

"Fàdlàk!" The man pleaded as he watched an angered Steve approach him. He began to whimper and mutter the word repeatedly. "It means please, Steve." Natasha clarified when she saw the Captain bring his clenched fist back to send a brutal blow. He let his arm fall when he watched her stand up from the hiding place and join him. His piercing eyes flitted between the guard who choked Natasha and Natasha herself who was standing calmly by his side. Steve exhaled deeply before giving the man his hand to hoist him up. They all three watched the guard limp away before Sam pressed the red button and the back door of the plane folded up and shut. Nobody said anything, but it was actions like that which made them put their trust in Steve, and each other.

Natasha turned away and began to rub the irritated skin of her neck. As she made her way to the cockpit, she heard Steve and Sam's voices and laughter. "Did you see that punch I threw? Did you see it?!" They were shoving each other's shoulders and even pretended to start a brawl of their own. "I did boxing in high school, you know? You sure you wanna do this grandpa?" If anything, the nickname 'Grandpa' only made Steve more eager in a little friendly ego squashing. Their faces lit up in ways Natasha hadn't seen in such a long time. She thought back to when Stark said she had 'an old soul' when they first met. With that in mind, she slumped in the chair and began flicking switches on and pressing buttons. By the time Sam served a punch to Steve's stomach that sent him into a pile of salt bags on the floor, they were already in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who provided such great feedback! As I mentioned in the comments section, I have the first nine chapters of this story outlined already so I hope to update soon.
> 
> Fàdlàk= Please (Egyptian Arabic) 
> 
> I wanted there to be a scene where all three of them hitch a ride in a cramped rickshaw and be rubbing elbows together. And Sam would be squished in the middle and complain about how he didn't like the situation. But, alas, I thought the chapter was already running on the long side and I wanted to keep this story somewhat dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They land in Kiev and check into a hotel for the night when some news hurts Steve and unexpected company arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so in the movie, Arim Zola said that Natasha was born in 1984. And I'm just going to ignore that in place of her comic book birth which was around the late 20's. 
> 
> Mentions of the riots in the Ukraine area. One of the things I really enjoyed about the story was the reference to current events that are affecting us now. And this event really affected me, and it just didn't feel okay not to write about it. (If I do include any current events or things in the news, I will never incorporate my political view point)

"What's our ETA Natasha?" There was no response, only the muffled sound of people talking on the communications radio. Steve's eyebrows narrowed in confusion and concern at that. "Natasha?" He and Sam shared a worried look before electing to pause their card game and see what the problem was. When Steve started to make his way to the cockpit, Sam looked over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't get caught before taking a peek at his opponent's deck of cards. _"Don't_ even think about it." Steve ordered without bothering to turn around. Even though he couldn't see, Sam knew there was a smirk on his face. "Nat-" Her name faltered from his mouth when he saw her slumped awkwardly in the chair. A quiet snore escaped Natasha as Steve stood with his arms crossed, watching her chest rise and fall evenly.

"I sometimes forget that spies have to sleep too." Sam came behind Steve, looking over his shoulder at Natasha, his eyes moving to the control panel to see she switched it to autopilot before dozing off. "I'll take over." He moved to wake her before Steve's hand shot out to stop him. "If I remember correctly," Steve whispered, pulling him away from the cockpit. "You told me you weren't a pilot." Sam took his jab all in good stride, rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips. "And if I remember correctly, the last time you piloted a plane, it crashed and you ended up on ice." Steve's face instantly went blank at the joke, his jaw clenching and eyes becoming out of focus. "Sorry." Sam placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him an understanding smile. "Too soon?" Steve wasn't upset by the comment, just thrown off. Once he was thawed out of the ice, he was immediately made busy by SHIELD and the persistent threats on the world. The memories came to the Captain in flashes, but he never really thought about coming to terms with it. He made himself busy so there was no time to cope with his past. As usual, he played it off and dodged the sore subject with a casual joke.

"I think seventy years is more than enough time to get over myself, Sam." Steve's tight smile had a slight tremor to it before disappearing. When he went back into the cockpit to wake Natasha, he found her sitting upright and watching him. "You were just sleeping." He pointed out as she began to switch it off autopilot and unbuckle her seatbelt. "I woke up once you two entered the cockpit, but I didn't want to interrupt your moment." Natasha joked before handing him the communicator headset and joining Sam to finish their card game.

* * *

They arrived at the airway in Kiev in the middle of the night. There was only one man stationed at the watchtower and he was curled up on the floor nursing an empty bottle. Sam chuckled and snapped a picture of the man's face stained with drool before running to catch up with the others. Other than that, the taxi ride to the nearest hotel was silent. Sam sat in between the two, and even though Natasha was lolling her head against the car window and Steve was frantically flipping through a leather bound notebook, he felt protected when he was with them. A sleeping Natasha was more lethal than the highest trained operative who just drank their morning coffee. When the rustling of papers continued, Sam's eyes darted to see what he was looking at. It appeared to be an in-detail analysis of Bucky that he had written. For a brief moment, he saw the photograph of the soldier in cryogenic sleep that was attached to the file Natasha gave them. He looked back over to Natasha to see her eyes roving over the damages the riots did to the Independence Square. The restoration process was still occurring, cranes heaving stone slabs to the workers while others used pressure hoses to wash off the ash and grime from the walls. He supposed she was used to riots and chaos considering she observed first hand the fall of the USSR.

When they reached the hotel and Steve paid the driver, jet-lag weighed in at full effect. Natasha handled the communication aspects, and managed to snag a room with a view. Not that they could look at the view considering wherever they went, the curtains were always drawn closed. The elevator music substituted the silence as they all stood quietly, Sam looking at the tawdry carpet and Steve watching as Natasha clutched at the thin fabric of her tank top. He shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it on her slumped shoulders. She jolted slightly in surprise, as if he had awoken her from a consuming thought. Her eyes didn't meet Steve's ever concerned ones as she felt the worn fabric under her hands. It reminded her of when she was saved by soviets soldiers from the fire where her parents died. One man tossed his uniform jacket to her in hopes of keeping her warm. "I thought it might look better on you." Steve joked and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before the elevator doors opened. He noticed that despite Natasha rolling her eyes at his cheesy remark, she couldn't hide the blush spreading in her cheeks. He remembered when they first found Natasha in Cairo, when he noticed her lips begin to quiver ever so slightly how he wanted to kiss them. Now looking at her rosy cheeks that she tried to shield with her hair, he wanted to kiss those too. As Sam slipped the keycard into the lock and opened to room door, Steve wondered what it was about the rare expressions of innocence Natasha showed that he found so appealing.

Natasha immediately disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower running competing with the television Steve turned on. Sam plopped on the bed that Steve was sitting on the edge of, too entranced with the news report to get annoyed by the sudden movement. The bright flash of the screen illuminated the confusion and fear that lined his face. The newscaster was reporting how federal officials verified that HYDRA had an influence on the decision to create stronger ties with Russia. They then went on to say that many operatives were still loose on the streets. Montages of fires erupting, people climbing upon statues, cars being bashed from blunt objects, throngs of people in gas masks fleeing the scene, and protesters being shot down by police snipers were shown. The words 'Viewer Discretion Advised' was shown underneath as the violent acts only escalated. _The government is killing its own people. The people have the power no more. _Steve didn't even realize how profusely his heart was pounding until the news changed to a commercial he didn't understand. He didn't even notice Sam leave the room to get some dinner. His muscles began tightening, fists clenching in his lap, veins pulsating-__

The sound of the bathroom door whooshing opened caught his attention, head whipping in the direction of light flooding the otherwise dark room. Natasha immediately sensed Steve's distress and shut the bathroom light off before sinking next to him on the edge of the bed. She had seen him cry before- when important missions went haywire, agents killed under his command, or just the overall stress to live up to expectations caught up with him. And as always, Natasha would sit silently and allow him to open up to her if he so desired. She never expected anything from him, which was how their relationship succeeded. There was no competition. _No debts owed. _They simply just were. Natasha turned the situation so no one was dependent on the other. She knew that tight, strained face Steve would make when he was trying so desperately not to cry. Most people seeing Captain America crying would have scared them. He's the symbol of hope and invincibility. But it just put Natasha at ease that she was following a human being instead of a heartless machine like she was used to. And for that, she would put away her feelings of inadequacy that she couldn't help anyone.__

Steve got the courage to look at Natasha, tears welling in his eyes and causing the image of her to blur. Without thinking, he pulled her into his lap in one sweeping motion, his arms like a vice around her body. Through the wisps of her hair that began to curl again, he could see the news report on the fall of SHIELD. When video clips of the helicarriers crashing from the sky began to play in the screen, it was the tipping point for Steve. He buried his head into Natasha's shoulder and tried to focus on how her trimmed nails brushing through his hair in a soothing manner to bring him back down. His whole body shook, fingers gripping for dear life at the cotton fabric of Natasha's tank top. The hold was strong enough that it was somewhat hard to breathe, she being practically crushed against Steve's chest to the point she could feel his heart pounding against it. Natasha merely allowed him to do what was necessary, knowing that she did what she had to so he slept a little easier at night helped her as well. But it wasn't like in the movies where she would start kissing his forehead and tell him everything was alright. _The world was not alright. _They still had work to do. She didn't want to say another empty lie and add onto the ones already told to them. Steve focused on the warmth of Natasha's thighs wrapped around him, the feel of her hair tickling his skin, her chest where he buried his head into which rose and fell evenly-__

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Steve pulled his head away from her cleavage and pressed his forehead against hers. Natasha's first instinct was to say she'd seen worse, but that would only upset him further. She found Steve would get upset on multiple occasions about things that were out of his control, and she would have to constantly remind him that it wasn't his fault. She was well aquatinted with misplaced guilt, and didn't want to further Steve's problems with her own. "I was expecting it to happen at some point during the mission, but this isn't even the hard part Steve." She chuckled softly, he chiming in as she brushed her hand across his damp cheek. But they didn't talk about what 'the hard part' entailed. Not outside of business. And Natasha wanted to say this was apart of her job, to ensure the stability of her teammates. She knew what it was like to have the sudden need to grab onto the first person you see like a life preserve in a storm. But Natasha merely had more control over it she supposed. She tried to write off the fact she was curled up against an emotionally unstable Steve as her doing her duty. But Natasha doesn't have a duty anymore. She couldn't use the excuse that Fury told her to make sure Steve was okay at any cost. She persisted he get a girlfriend so she could deal with all the angst and emotions. So she could become attached to the super soldier, _not her _.__

Before Natasha or Steve could say anything more to each other, the door bursted open and Sam fell on his hands and knees before them. Steve whipped around to see he wasn't laying in bed where he remembered seeing him last, his mind vaguely recalling Sam saying he was going to get something to eat while the broadcast had his attention. "When'd you leave?" Steve hissed at him. "I came back about ten minutes ago, but didn't want to interrupt your moment." Three men in suits loomed in the doorway with guns fixed on all of them. Whoever they were, they must've spotted Sam out and about and took him at gun point. Steve's shield and Sam's flight pack were all sitting in a desk chair in the corner of the room. But the sound of the men's guns cocking caused Natasha's hand to immediately gravitate towards the one strapped to her thigh. One of the men noticed her move to pull it out and elected to shoot the space between Sam's thumb and index finger. "Come with us without making a scene and I won't move my gun a couple degrees to the left and shoot your friend's hand off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, cliffhangers...
> 
> If you thought Steve crying and hugging Natasha was out of character for him, I'm sorry. Sometimes I can't separate my own emotions from the characters I'm writing. And when I saw the videos and what not about the protests and what was happening, it just really hurt me. And I'm used to seeing corruption in the government. Imagine how Captain America feels when he sees that? I'll try not to get too OOC like that. 
> 
> Hope to update soon! Thanks for all the feedback so far. It is really helpful actually.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio is taken away to be interrogated by the armed officers. Soon they find that things are a lot more complicated than they expected. New character introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather long, and dialogue heavy. Sorry in advance if it is an arduous read.
> 
> Sorry for any typos.
> 
> *Violence- punching and bashing people in the face, non-graphic mentions of blood, choking, stabbing someone in the stomach etc. (I don't think it's terribly graphic, but it's my duty to warn you regardless)

One of the men snatched Natasha away from Steve and pulled her tight against him. "We just want to ask some questions." He willed himself from reaching for Natasha's hand and pulling her away. Steve noticed as another man approached him, jabbing the barrel of his gun into his side, that these were uniformed men. DPSU written on the patch on their shoulders. His jaw tightened at the memory of being arrested by SHIELD's strike team, and now this. Were they outlaws everywhere they went? Was no place safe for them anymore? His body tensed at the feel of cold metal handcuffs being clasped to his wrists, the familiar clicking sound of them locking into place followed. Steve could have easily snapped the restraints and dealt with the men using his bare hands. The thought was tempting, but when they began to walk into the hallway, they were met by about twelve other armed officers with their rifles trained on them. Sam looked over to Steve and shared a worried look that shook the soldier to his bones. His wide, brown eyes fixed on him in a pleading manner, communicating his hope that the Captain had some plan. And it was hope that was misplaced. Sam was the man who joked while SHIELD agents tried to shoot him out of the sky. He didn't even wink at the moderately attractive women leading him away.

Steve's eyes shifted to Natasha who wasn't even looking his way. He could see the dead look in her eyes as she steeled away any emotions. He remembered that look when a mission in Madripoor went sour and they were captured. The Captain was forced to watch the live feed of the brutal interrogation. All he could concentrate on was Natasha's eyes that were reminiscent to a void, even after being struck across the face and spat upon. He noticed how her fiery locks began to curl at the ends and tried to focus on that. His head was shoved forward and he was forced to look at the ground as they entered the elevator. Sam saw how they pushed Steve around and sneered amongst themselves, murmuring in their native language. His eyes shifted towards Natasha who was tight lipped despite the guard holding onto her from behind who was whispering something in her ear that made her shiver.

"Hey!" Sam got the attention of all the guards, some amused he was a brave enough prisoner to speak out, others cocking their rifles just in case he tried something funny. "That guy right there took on fifteen men- with one hand! In an elevator not much bigger than this. I wouldn't mess with him if I were you." The smug grins they wore faded away at his words and were replaced by deep scowls. "And you over there?" Sam pointed his head at the guard still pestering Natasha. "Did your mother ever tell you how to treat a woman? I could tell you stories about her that would make you-" _"Enough!" _Sam couldn't discern who did it, but someone slammed the boot of their rifle into his face. His head whipped sharply to the side and his nose made an awful cracking sound. Steve jerked forward, ready to attack, before a couple of guards grabbed both his arms and tugged him back into place. Natasha simply smirked at his cocky display, unphased by the stream of blood oozing from his nostril and dripping onto the smirk that adorned his beaten face.__

They were escorted out of the hotel lobby, ignoring the strange looks they got from the guests. A black van (which had 'Derzhavna Prykordonna Sluzhba Ukrayiny' written on it) pulled up to the curb as they neared the exit. Sam jerked in the painful grip the officer had on his shoulder before being shoved into the backseat, Natasha and Steve following. All the officers amounting to about eighteen all together split up into three different vans. One group going in the van in front, and the other going in the van tailing them. One man came to make sure the handcuffs were still secured correctly before leaving.

"Hey." Natasha called out to the officer before he slid the door shut. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She nudged the bags on the floor with her boot and allowed herself to smirk at his forgetfulness. The man growled something under his breath before taking the bags and pulling them over their heads. She couldn't see, but feel the door being slammed as the car shook from the force. "I have the feeling this isn't the Ukraine border patrol." Despite the words being slightly muffled by the bag and the music which the driver switched on, they understood her. "The group who killed Fury- tried to kill him, were all dressed as DC police officers." Steve swallowed hard and they all sat in silence as they allowed that to sink in. "You don't think the same people are targeting us too?" Sam's question was met with silence, no one wanting to answer in fear he may be right. "Well? Do you think so or-" "I don't know, Sam." Steve cut him off, not wanting to entertain the possibility that Bucky might have been found by them too. "It's possible." Natasha reasoned, her jaw shifting underneath the itchy fabric of the bag. "Like Zola said, 'Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.' Maybe HYDRA is growing in more places than we may think."

* * *

They were yanked out of the van in the dead of night, a cool wind brushing against them as they were escorted inside an undisclosed building. They didn't know they were in an elevator until the surprising sensation of descent occurred. The doors slid open with a ding and the oppressive grip of the guards relinquished. Out of all of them, Natasha was the most agitated considering she was deprived of her senses, yet she appeared to be the most calm as well. Her mind wanted to form escape routes, assess the weapons potentially being used on them, any weakness in the security system- But most of all, she wanted to look into the eyes of her captor. Steve clenched his fists and anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other while Sam began to pace around the room. When he ran into the concrete wall, he decided to stay put. A sealed door sliding open with a hissing sound got their attention, the sharp clacking of boots against the hard floor followed. One by one the bags were ripped off their heads, the fluorescent lights immediately blinded them. It took a couple of moments of squinting their eyes and blinking away the brightness before they could look at who was holding them captive.

"You all are awfully calm considering death will soon ensnare you." A tall, sustainable man with a deep scar running down his left eye stood before them. He was adorned in a sharp, black military uniform and sported a monocle. "Please, sit. You're my guests." His thick accent almost made it sound like he was hissing when he spoke. The man gestured his hand to three chairs in the middle of the room which the trio eyeballed carefully before settling down in. Sam had been fortunate enough to never have been the victim of a kidnapping prior to this, his only knowledge being what he saw in horror movies as a kid. Despite this, he was pretty sure kidnappers weren't so polite and casual with their victims. "Visitors as in we're allowed to leave?" He raised his wrists in the air and jangled the handcuffs still secured to them. "Oh yes. You may leave," His voice reached a new level of sinister as he gave Sam a splitting grin. " _In body bags. _" Sam scrunched his face in disgust before burying it into his hands. Steve's eyes examined the room, looking for a way of escaping. The room they were in was underground considering they took an elevator, and the only door was code activated. "What did I do to deserve this? I never sassed my mom! How did I manage to get mixed into this shit?" Sam muttered under his breath, the reality of it all suddenly crashing down on him.__

"You really think you're going to kill us? On whose orders?" Steve sprung from his chair and approached the maniac. Natasha bolted from hers and managed to grab his arm despite wearing handcuffs before he did anything stupid. "My orders of course!" The man exclaimed, hunching forward and getting in the soldier's face. "I'm the great Baron Von Strucker." He straightened himself, arching his back and clenching his fist tightly against his sturdy chest. "The new supreme head of HYDRA." Natasha let go of Steve's arm and it fell limp by her side. Steve's chest deflated as he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. _"What?" _He muttered incredulously before slowly turning away and slumping in his seat again. It couldn't have been possible for HYDRA to have survived after having all their secrets broadcasted. Not only that, they had a substantial amount of members still running about and supposedly, a new leader. All the hard work, lives lost, having to take SHIELD under as well- Only to find it amounted to nothing, just as Zola had told Steve in the bunker.__

"You're just a copycat chasing cheap thrills." Natasha hissed, a scowl contorting her usually calm features. She refused to believe she sacrificed her secrets for nothing. She refused to believe this man was nothing more than a delusional, attention-seeking criminal. The thoughts stewing in her mind were cut off when strong fingers gripped her chin. "Capturing you was very thrilling, yes." Baron drawled, an impish smirk settling on his scratched up face. His steely eyes roved over her in an unsettling manner. "But don't be mistaken, _little Widow _." He jerked her head up violently, his grip growing painful. Behind them, Sam extended his arm across Steve's chest as a barrier so he wouldn't interrupt. "There is nothing cheap when it comes to fueling one's desires." His voice softened in a distant quality, his fingers relaxed their hold on her face. Though his eyes were fixed on her, he appeared to be somewhere else, lost in thought. Natasha wanted to wrap her handcuffs around Baron's neck and choke him out, she wanted to take the dagger strapped to his belt and give him a new set of scars on his face- But she had to control herself if she wanted to gather the necessary information on HYDRA. "Some say sacrifice is the heaviest price to pay." Strucker's eyes refocused on Natasha, gleaming in a sinful manner.__

"The fact that you got us bound in some dungeon makes me really worry about what your desires are exactly." Sam called out to Baron from his seat, hoping to distract him from prodding with Natasha. In any other occasion, Steve would've chuckled at one of his friend's witty remarks, but now didn't seem like the time. Sam didn't like the way he was leering at Natasha, and wondered exactly what did he intend to do with them if they weren't dead yet. His plan worked though, Baron leaving his attention from the redhead as he approached Sam and Steve sitting down. "You're a funny one, aren't you?" Strucker bent his knees so he was at eye level with him, a malicious grin forming as Sam glowered at him. "You're not my type." Sam spat, his lip curled up slightly in amusement at his own comeback. Baron Von Strucker appeared to be composed, his eyes narrowing at the disrespectful man before him. In reality, he was plotting all the potential ways he would kill Sam, and how he would kill him first. If there was one thing Baron hated more, was to be made a fool. Although, that could be said for just about any megalomaniac villain they ran into.

"Fine, say you're not a copy cat." Steve chimed in, chin tilted upwards in a confident and authoritative manner. "What's going on now that Pierce is dead?" Baron seemed to loom over him, his eyes going dark as he glared at the Captain. " _Pierce? Mr. Alexander Pierce? _" He scoffed. "He was merely a placeholder- A vessel that embodied our organization's ideals. Though he is not the only one capable of doing so." Baron stepped away and began to slowly pacing around the room, the sharp sound of the heel of his boots echoing. "Chaos will always preside. As will the need for a formidable leader to guide us towards order and reasoning." He stopped in his tracks and turned to the trio with a smug grin twisted on his face. "Which is I, of course." He added, placing his hand on his chest. Natasha leaned against the wall next to Sam and rolled her eyes at Strucker's overconfident display. His unnecessary and drawn out speeches were distracting her from thinking up an escape plan.__

"I fail to see how chaos has anything to do with order and reasoning." Steve argued, his hard set morals clashing with Baron's wayward ideals. "Then you fail to see many things, Mr. Rogers." Strucker countered, stalking towards Steve with his hands braced behind his back. Sam wasn't even scared anymore of being sent away in a body bag, but welcoming of it. He groaned in frustration before letting his head fall against Natasha's side. "Chaos is the catalyst of fear, and with fear comes submission." These caustic words tore at every fiber of Steve's being, going against everything he believed in, everything he fought for. "HYDRA creates the problems of this world, and its solutions." Baron slipped his hand into his pant pocket and pulled out a remote. A screen folded out from the wall and displayed video clips of all the atrocities occurring in the world. "In the midst of terrorism and war, do you think the people will question their savior? Like God, HYDRA has the ability to flood the Earth, but also save it's people from tripping upon their own pride."

Tired of listening to him go on about HYDRA's plans of domination without divulging any real information, Natasha took caution to the wind. While Strucker turned his back to them, waving his hand about in the air as he blabbered on about his legacy on the new world, she decided to take action. Natasha ran up to him and jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his torso like a python. The chains on her handcuffs wrapped around his thick neck and began to restrict his breathing. His words sputtered off as he began to choke and gasp for air. When Baron walked backwards and rammed Natasha against the wall, effectively crushing her and causing the breath to be knocked out, Steve and Sam intervened. The chain of the handcuffs broke, freeing Natasha's hands so she could grab the knife in Strucker's holster before slipping away. Steve threw a punch which was deflected, Baron instead grabbing the fist that almost connected with his face and twisting the soldier's arm, folding it behind his back. Steve merely threw his elbow back and bashed the man's face. Strucker staggered backwards momentarily from the blow which was all that was necessary to finish him. The Captain grabbed Strucker by the lapel and extended his fist in the air before landing another brutal blow to his face. Baron slid down the wall and toppled to the floor, pinching his nose to stop the blood from flowing.

"You should have done that a _long _time ago." Sam groaned as he stood behind Steve. Steve's chest heaved, teeth gritted, and fists clenched so tightly to the point his veins pulsated as he loomed over Baron. "Let me finish what I started." Natasha requested as she gracefully twirled the dagger between slender fingers. She winced at the memory of how James was the one who taught her how to do that, remembering how she had to watch him attack Steve using the same tricks as she bled out from the bullet he shot into her shoulder. The prospect of killing Baron and getting the hell out of there was a fulfilling distraction. Natasha calmly approached him, getting on her haunches so she could whisper something in his ear. "Is this the chaos you wanted?" As the words slipped from her lips, she thrusted the knife into his gut and twisted it until Strucker groaned and cried out in pain. She let out a soft 'hmph' sound, satisfied with his response before tossing the bloodied dagger to the ground and looking back to her teammates. Steve merely shook his head in admiration as he crossed his arms over his chest while Sam, who was not fully used to seeing Natasha in action, looked at her wide eyed in amazement.__

"Shall we?" Natasha nudged her head towards the sealed door. Steve picked up the dagger and used it to unlock Sam's handcuffs since they didn't break during the fight. "How the hell are we supposed to get out of here if we don't have the code to open the door?" Sam snapped as he rubbed the irritated flesh of his wrists. Steve sighed and shook his head in disappointment at his friend. "Sam, have a little faith in me." He smirked before turning his attentions to the door which he pried open with little strain. Steve gestured his hand out to the open door for them to go through. "I did put my faith in you. I thought it would be cool to hang with Captain America- and look where that got me!" Sam playfully shoved him as he passed through the door. "Oh hush, you're not dead yet." Natasha teased as they walked towards the elevator. "You call not being dead an achievement?!" He leaned against the metal wall and confidently folded his arms together, waiting for a snappy comeback. "In this business we're in? Yes, I do." Natasha replied solemnly before the elevator doors opened with a ding and they were met by an army of armed HYDRA agents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers...again! This chapter is running a little on the long side as I said earlier. Sorry about that. Here's some things to clarify if you're confused: 
> 
> DPSU, in case it wasn't clear in the story, stands for Derzhavna Prykordonna Sluzhba Ukrayiny which is basically the Ukraine Border Patrol. They thought they were being arrested for illegally entering the country, and that's why they didn't fight back. 
> 
> Baron Von Strucker was shown briefly in the after credits of Cap 2, and is listed as one of the main villains in Avengers: Age of Ultron. The fact that we only see him for a few moments didn't give me much basis for his character. So, I based his speech and body movement on his comic book adaptation. He is overtly dramatic, but I tried not to go too far with it. 
> 
> Madripoor is briefly mentioned. This is a fictional place in the Marvel universe which is mentioned mostly in the comics. It's near Southeast Asia in case you're wondering.
> 
> Natasha refers to a man named James, who if I didn't make it clear, is Bucky/Winter Soldier. The wonderful Tregun commented on the first chapter, asking about Natasha and Winter Soldier, and I touched basis on this. Basically Natasha calls him James because that's the name he went by when she knew him. He trained her and what not. So yeah...thought I'd throw that in there. 
> 
> Hope I didn't miss anything....
> 
> Thanks so much to all your lovely support! If you have any questions of the plot or what not, or just want to give feedback, feel free to write me up. I always respond to comments. Thanks again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues with the fights with HYDRA agents. A mysterious character comes to the trios rescue. And Captain America steals another car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Violence- about the same level of intensity as last time (punching, kicking, bashing people with guns, explosions, brief mentions of blood)
> 
> SIDE NOTE: While this is a Steve/Natasha story, their relationship is not the focal point of this story. I try to incorporate little moments in every chapter, and the next chapter heavily focuses on interactions between them. But this story is character/plot centric, not about a budding romance. If that is all you came here for, then please be patient and realize the story is not all about when Steve and Nat finally bang each other. -Thanks
> 
> Sorry for any typos.

The three all shared a knowing look before getting to work. Steve tackled one to the ground, effectively crushing the man with his weight. He took the agent's rifle and bashed his head with it hard enough that he blacked out. Natasha ducked into a crouching position as bullets whizzed above her head, she could feel the rush of air as one breezed by her ear. She swiped an agent's feet off the ground and tripped them. The agent fell with a hard thud on the ground, landing on their back with enough force to knock the air out of them. Sam tossed her a rifle that fell from the grip of an agent being beaten to a pulp by the Captain. Natasha gave him a thankful smile before going to help out Steve. Sam was confronted by two agents with their guns trained on him. One of them attempted to shoot him, but missed when he grabbed the barrel of the gun and rammed the butt of the rifle into the agent's gut. Sam then grabbed the agent and pulled him against his chest, using him as an effective shield. The other agent couldn't find a clear shot without potentially shooting his fellow agent. Sam took the relapse of thought to grab a handgun in the agent he held against him and shoot the one in front of him. Before he could plan to snap the agent he used as a shield, a bullet flew through the air and shot him in the center of his forehead, causing the agent's head to fling back.

"Thanks." Sam exhaled, dropping the agent's limp body and wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Is that all of them?" Natasha looked to see Steve was still in the process of putting one of the agent's in a choker hold. "Almost." He gritted out as he struggled with the agent to stop squirming in his grasp. "I don't think our luck is that good." Sam whipped the rifle he stole in the air and Natasha and Steve turned to see a second wave of HYDRA agents filing in through the doorway. Steve pulled her against his chest and ripped away one of the metal platings on the wall, using it as a makeshift shield as more bullets rained down on them. Sam threw one of the agents against the wall hard enough that he blacked out before falling limply to the ground. Natasha was twisting an agent's arm behind their back and shoving them to the ground when she saw it. It rolled through the mess of the fighting and slowed to a stop inches in front of her. It was sleek black with a white skull insignia marking it. A hand grenade.

Steve removed his attentions from dealing with a particularly beefy agent when his eyes fell upon the grenade and moved to lock on with Natasha. He pushed the agent off of him with all the strength he had before dashing towards her. He managed to pick up the dented scrap of metal and again use it as a shield when the grenade went off. Natasha's fingers gripped tightly to his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer against her body. They were so close huddled together that they could practically feel the vibrations of the explosion radiate off one another. Steve's arms were like a vice against her trembling body, hoping that the tighter he held Natasha, the safer she would be. He hissed when the metal became burning hot from being seared by the flames. Natasha buried her head into his shoulder to muffle the deafening explosion and the screams of dying HYDRA agents. The room became silent as smoke settled, making it hard to see if there were any survivors still lurking about. An agent that pinned Sam into a corner and repeatedly rammed her fist into his gut got the brute of the explosion. He coughed as the smoke entered his lungs and frantically searched for any signs of his friends.

"We have to stop meeting like this." Natasha remarked, pushing off Steve's chest so she could look at him. Steve released a mixture of a chuckle and a huff of relief in response. They both remained relatively unaffected by the explosion, no visible damage done to either one. There was that slight tremor in Natasha's lips before they quirked into a crooked smirk that made him want to kiss her again. "Uh, guys?" Steve and Natasha separated, turning to see what Sam was talking about. Once the smoke had dissolved into the air, a looming figure stood in the doorway of the facility. He was a rugged man with a sturdy build. He wasn't beefy like Steve, but his tanned physique had muscular tone from working. Stubble adorned his scratched up face and neck, unkempt black hair falling over his steely, intense eyes. Natasha's pupils dilated when her eyes locked onto the white skull on his shirt, slightly hidden by the hand grenades strapped across his chest. Before she could even utter his name, the man bolted away towards the forest in a flash. Sam shared an exasperated look with his friends before making a mad dash to follow their unexpected savior. Steve's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, yanking him back so he couldn't chase after the man.

"He'll be easier to find from a bird's eye view." Steve explained before releasing his grip, his tired eyes surveyed the stranger's route through the surrounding forest. They all understood that it would be best to go back to the hotel and get their weapons, and maybe some sleep. They all looked back at the mess of corpses that they laid waste to, the HYDRA agents blood seeping- staining the otherwise clean floors. The bright red liquid a stark and haunting contrast. They were more than happy to get out of the facility that reeked of bleach, blood, and gunpowder. The wind hit them as soon as they stepped outside into the wilderness, Sam clenching his arms against his chest to retain body heat. Natasha spotted the three fake border patrol vans parked near the entrance and nudged Steve to get his attention. He gave her a curt nod before leaving towards the car, thanking the lord most Europeans keep their doors unlocked as he got to work on hot wiring it.

"When did Captain America learn to steal a car?" Sam watched with his arms crossed over his chest and a toothy grin easing on his face. Steve stood up once he heard the sound of the engine humming to life and brushed his blond locks off his forehead. "Why does everyone ask me that?" They shared a chuckle before filing into the van, Natasha taking the wheel. Sam and Steve passed out in the backseat to the sound of the static hiss of the radio. There were no music stations playing in the deserted forest she was driving through, but Natasha couldn't handle the complete silence when she got antsy after a mission. When she arrived to the hotel, she turned in her seat to find Steve and Sam using each other's shoulders as a headrest, Sam's mouth gaped open as a snore escaped him. As Natasha gently nudged them awake, informing them they were back at the hotel, she wondered if that's what a mother felt like when she found her children sleeping on the car ride home.

* * *

"I'm gonna find that man who saved us." Sam informed the team as he began strapping in his flight pack, nimble fingers securing belts and straps into place. "If he knew that HYDRA had a secret facility in the middle of nowhere, imagine what else the brother has info on." Steve assuringly clapped his friend on the shoulder while Natasha stood in the background anxiously rubbing the back of her neck. "Be safe." She blurted out to Sam as he left towards the balcony where he would fly away. He blew her a kiss and winked before jumping off the railing, wings extending out from his flight pack. Steve turned his attentions away from Sam once he was too far away to be seen, effectively disappearing in the night. His eyes latched onto Natasha who seemed to be acting strange since they got back. Quiet, and more so than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter than last ones. I wouldn't say this is another cliffhanger, just left on a sort of odd note. 
> 
> The trios rescuer will be revealed in later chapters. Hint: While this character has their own independent movies (most not that good), their character has not made an appearance in the MCU. 
> 
> The next chapter will be Steve/Natasha centric as I mentioned in the side note at the beginning. (Sorry if I was too frank) I hope I'm not boring you guys with all the action, and not enough 'action' between Steve and Nat. If the story is boring, I'm going to pick it up soon. 
> 
> Thanks for all your support. I'm serious, you guys are give the best feedback and it's really helpful!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falcon leaves to go find their mysterious rescuer. Steve and Natasha stay behind and have troubles working things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks right up from the end of the last chapter which got cut a little short. Steve/Natasha centric.

"What's going on?" Steve asked as he watched practically any hints of emotions dissolved from her face. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from confessing to him. She could take being beaten and tortured, but there was something about those dewy blue eyes that made you want to be good. She turned her back to him so she wouldn't have to look at them, limply leaning her head against the wall. "It's nothing, Rogers." Natasha uttered, her voice was thick and on the verge of breaking. He hated it when she called him Rogers because of the reasoning behind it. She always called people by their last name when she tried to distance herself from them. When Clint was kidnapped, Natasha always referred to him as Barton. When Tony would get too comfortable and started flirting with her, Natasha always called him Stark. It made Steve's chest tighten at the thought she was closing herself off because she didn't trust him. He observed how Natasha's slender fingers twitched by her side before she clenched them into a fist, the bone protruding and veins pulsating under her pale skin.

"Hey." Steve conveyed in a small voice, reaching for Natasha's shoulder which tensed under his touch. He tried to ignore how her body coiled up as he pulled it against his own. "Tell me what's going on." He whispered with his cheek resting against the top of her head. Gripping tightly to the soft cotton of his shirt, her fingernails dug into his chest. It wasn't like in the movies where she instantly felt safe and comforted in his arms. HYDRA would retaliate as would the figures of her past that wanted her dead for spilling secrets onto the internet. Her body felt like it was being consumed by his arms. She wanted to scratch away a layer of her skin or- "Natasha." Steve urged, gripping her shoulders and pulling her away so she would look at him. She noticed how his jaw clenched tightly, chest heaved under the palms of her hand, muscles flexed from the strength in which he held her. This was a leader, tired and driven to the breaking point. She knew he wasn't angry at her, merely lashing out because he feared he had no control and no one's trust.

"I am not required to tell you anything." Natasha raised her chin defiantly at him, addressing him in an even tone. "We have each other's backs when we're fighting together, but that doesn't make you entitled to know everything about me." Steve swallowed hard as he felt her physically and emotionally retract from him, a sudden coldness settling in him. "And if you think otherwise," She continued, removing her arms from his grasp so she could fold them over her chest. "Then you're no different than the rest of them." With that, she disappeared into the bathroom and let those thoughts burn into Steve's mind. She couldn't allow him to operate under the belief that they could depend on one another. When he held her and cried into her arms, that was the total sign of dependency and trust. Of which she felt unworthy of receiving. That shook Natasha to her core, the fear and dread of such a responsibility. She wanted his trust and protection, but couldn't allow herself to fall into that whenever some minor thing came up. Her whole life, Natasha had to fight for herself, pick herself up off the floor and hold her own hand. Steve had a mom and dad for most of his childhood, the US army, his Howling Commandos, the Avengers, Bucky- the concept of codependency came natural to him. She couldn't allow herself to be tied down like that.

"I shouldn't have forced you to open up to me like that, Tasha." Steve's voice was muffled by the barrier of the bathroom door he leaned against. Natasha rolled her eyes at the use of her abbreviated name. Only a few people could get away with saying it, and she would never admit Steve was one of them. "It isn't locked." The door clicked open and he found the redhead sitting on the toilet seat, focused on filing her nails. He noticed she had changed into her cotton shorts and a tank top which she usually wore to bed. "I won't ask anymore questions after this, but I need to know something." These words made Natasha out the nail filer down and slowly lift her head up. "Whatever is going on with you- is it going to put any of us in danger?" Her eyes widened and chest froze as she looked at Steve sitting on the ledge of the countertop. The information she had would only further complicate their mission and weigh down on him. "I want you to trust me," Natasha rose to her feet, standing before him. "Which is why I can't tell you." Steve's body deflated at her confession, his hands cupping her hips and pulling her between his legs.

"Is somebody after you?" Steve rested his forehead against Natasha, his knowing eyes boring into her. "You know I'd hunt them down if you weren't so capable of doing it yourself." The pad of his thumb brushing against the gun wound on Natasha's hip caused an involuntary tremor to roll through her body. Despite his warm hands skimming underneath her thin tank top, she felt nothing but cold dread run through her veins. "It's not me that's being hunted down- Not yet at least." Natasha's teeth sunk down into her bottom lip as she screwed her eyes shut, fingers clamping down on Steve's broad shoulders. "It's Bucky." She breathed out, her chest deflating as she released a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her throat felt like it was tightening and closing up, betraying her as she swallowed hard to breathe. "Wh-what do you mean-" "Fury sent me a message." Natasha cut off Steve's stammering, anxious to let all the truth out once she started. "I wanted to wait for a time when someone wasn't trying to kill us to tell you." She informed him before leaving to the bed where she left her phone, Steve following anxiously behind. She unlocked her phone and found the text Fury sent her.

**How you doing redheaded angel?**

"Excuse me?" Steve's eyes narrowed, eyebrows creasing together in confusion and frustration. He was really hoping this wasn't some kind of cruel joke being pulled on him. It took Natasha a moment to realize why the text didn't make sense. "It's a code. Every first letter of each word." She sprang up from the bed and looked over his shoulder at the words that spelled out HYDRA. In the back of his mind, Steve wondered if Fury's phone was still bugged, or was he just dabbling in theatrics. "Anything else?" He watched as Natasha merely scrolled down and revealed more texts sent.

**N: What's up?**

**F: The pigs are taking a liking to the new barnes.**

"You think this is code for HYDRA recapturing Bucky?" Steve's grip on the phone tightened to the point Natasha had to take it from him. "It's either that or Fury has quit tracking down HYDRA agents to raise farm animals." She gave a smirk that didn't quite meet her eyes. It was like lifting a heavy weight over your shoulders for a few, torturous seconds and then dropping it to the floor in relief. Steve sank down onto the bed and watched as Natasha curled atop the covers, drawing her knees close to her chest. The position reminded Steve of when his frail, pre-serum body huddled over a grenade only to be told it was a test. He tried not to think about those days though. "Do you think that's why you guys hadn't found him yet?" Natasha's words were muffled considering her head was buried into her arm. "Because HYDRA has him?" She propped herself up and looked at Steve, her eyes pleading for an answer she actually didn't want to hear. Before Steve could answer, a loud clattering sound followed by a slew of swear words erupted from the balcony. Steve sprung up from the bed to see what happened with Natasha in tow.

"I'm not gonna pay for that. I left my goddamn wallet in Moldova." Sam stood before them brushing soil off his pants, a broken flower pot in pieces on the floor. Mud stained his shirt and caked his skin. He attempted to move past them inside the room when Natasha placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Don't even think about coming in here with those clothes on." Sam eyebrows bounced suggestively at her word choice, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of you saying that." He replied before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it at Steve. "Are you going to strip for us or are you going to tell us what happened to you?" The Captain inquired, frustration and impatience lining his voice. "Since you asked nicely." Sam kicked his soaking boots off before continuing. "I was flying over the forest, searching for the fella when I started getting shot at. One of my wings got ripped to shreds and I fell on my ass in the mud." He gestured to his disheveled appearance. "But the plus side is, I found the dude's hideout. I got a glimpse of it before he started pulling out a machine gun and aiming at me." Steve contemplated if it was worth going after this guy. "Can you take us to his hideout?" Natasha interrupted his train of thought, looking to see Sam had nodded in agreement. "Well then, let's go." She decided before anyone else could have a say in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is worried, while I am incorporating Natasha and Winter Soldier's past, I won't make any romantic implications. 
> 
> The next chapter will most likely focus on what's going on with the Winter Soldier, and then pick up with the trio trying to find out who saved them. 
> 
> If you have any questions or feedback about the story, feel free to comment. I am on break right now so hopefully I can get a fair amount of writing done. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimpse of what the Winter Soldier has been up to as the team desperately tries to find him. 
> 
> *Violence- Gunplay, punching, mentions of blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting Captain America headphones as one of my birthday gifts reminded me that I had to update this! 
> 
> As I mentioned in prior notes, this chapter is about Winter Soldier and how HYDRA has him detained again because they couldn't let him get away without completing the job. 
> 
> I haven't seen Cap 2 in a while, so I am doing the brainwashing scene from memory. Sorry if the details are a little off. 
> 
> This chapter has many flashbacks (which will be italicized) so sorry if it's a little confusing to follow. It's supposed to have a choppy and incoherent flow to it. 
> 
> Mentions of President Matthew Ellis who was shown to be the President in the movie when Steve goes to the Smithsonian museum. (Not really important, just shows this is the MCU) 
> 
> Mentions of events that happened in the first Captain America film, and moments that I made up myself. 
> 
> Sorry for any typos.

Boots treading through puddles echoed in the dank, narrow hallways. Drops of water leaked from the moldy ceiling and trickled onto the floor. Rusty pipes lined the dingy, paper-thin walls. On the other side of those walls where the wallpaper was peeling, the experiments took place. The footsteps of HYDRA agents and the rhythmic sound of water dripping ceased to be heard over the broken cries of their test subject. Winter Soldier. Scientists idly moved about the room, jotting down results and monitoring his vitals, completely unphased by the atrocious screams that were ripped from the soldier's throat. The gag in his mouth which his teeth clamped down on did nothing to muffle them. His limbs thrashed violently despite being restrained, strapped down to the chair. Clumps of hair, damp with sweat clung to his face that contorted in absolute pain. Muscles clenched and rippled, sweat glazed his skin, bones protruded, and veins pulsated. His eyes squeezed so tightly shut flashed open as his mind fought back against the brainwashing device.

Bucky used to remember sometimes, little things that would surface sporadically. His mother's favorite shade of lipstick, Natasha's hair, the front door of his uncle's house, or fresh cherries he and Steve would feed to the dogs when they drank vanilla milkshakes- But all the blood, or the Soviet Union flag flapping in the wind mixed with the memories and they became tainted. _Desecrated_. Now all the soldier sees when he closes his eyes is red. But he doesn't feel the emotion of anger associated with the color. No, he doesn't feel anything. To be denied emotions is to be denied humanity. Zola and his team of HYDRA scientists didn't need a human, they needed a machine. A weapon. And an efficient one at that. Emotions are messy. They needed the killing to be clean and effortless. A cutting edge killer with no inhibitions brought on by feeling. Cold, numb, and razor sharp like the winters winds his name was born. _The Winter Soldier._

Bucky's vision blurred as his mind lost control over itself, his natural instincts coming into play. When the scientists put their hands on him, he flexed his metal arm and ripped the restraint away. The metal appendages clenched into a fist and bashed the man's face, causing the scientist to stagger and fall back. He pried himself away from the chair, yanking the brainwashing device off his head. A slew of armed guards came bustling into the room when the scientists reported their experiment was acting out again. But Bucky was too immersed in sustaining the memories that had yet to be completely diminished from his tainted mind to fight back. The fluorescent lights blinded him, causing him to squint his eyes as one of the guards pushed him onto his hands and knees. The soldier's senses went hazy to the point he barely recognized that he was being hollered at to surrender. All the while, the memories smeared his eyesight and clouded his head. Every time he blinked, a new one would flash behind his eyelids.

'Stand down, soldier!'

'Winter Soldier. You will be reprimanded for this.'

'Put him back on ice. He's needs to cool off for a while.'

_His numb fingers loosened their grip on the metal bar which bent from his weight. Wisps of hair fluttered in the wind, falling over his eyes and making it hard to see along with the bits of snow whirling around. Bucky needed to remember who he was looking at as he hung from that edge of the train. The sound of the cutting wind whistling and howling in his ears was ignorable when his fingers slipped and a terrified scream escaped him. The feeling of weightlessness enraptured him as he plummeted to his supposed death. The memory was always cut short before he landed, but the sharp pain of flesh ripping and bones rupturing was still felt._

Winter Soldier's metal fingers wrapped around a HYDRA agent's neck before he flung her against a wall.

_The snow fell heavier and the pain was dull, yet still evident. A Russian soldier in a fur hat and thick coat loomed over him, gloved hands reaching out to grab him. A trail of red smeared the once pure ground, his blood staining it as he was dragged away. The winter wind cut like a knife and numbed his limp body, or perhaps that was the blood loss. The trees encircled around them and swayed and rocked, leaves chattering from a sudden gust of wind._

His metal arm extended in the air to deflect the bullets raining down on him. He grabbed the leg of a table and flung it at the HYDRA agents shooting at him.

_HYDRA put together a series of tests to weed out potential candidates. The one that was seared in Bucky's mind however, was the water test. He stood in nothing but flimsy, cotton shorts alongside twelve Soviet soldiers. The soles of his feet reddened from standing in the snow so long. When his turn came, he stumbled forward on the slippery ground towards the hole in the ice. One soldier fully clad in a fur lined coat kneeled by it with a stopwatch in hand. He remembered the training he'd recieved of compartmentalizing emotions and not allowing them to interfere with the task in hand._

_With this in mind, Bucky took a deep breath and immersed himself in the freezing water. The soldier's other hand pressed down on Bucky's head, making sure his body didn't resurface prematurely. His heart immediately faltered, throat closed up, and chest tightened at the loss of breath. His eyes burned as they quickly looked about in the darkness, and then up at the blurred image of the soldier looming above the surface. His blood felt like it would turn into the frozen creek the soldiers had walked by as a whole minute passed. The soldier grabbed him by his locks of hair and tugged him to the surface. Bucky's body slumped against the ice as he coughed violently to get the water out from his lungs as the cold air suddenly came back to him._

His fingers knotted in an agent's hair, giving the locks fisted in his human hand a harsh pull as he bashed the man's face into a wall and heard his skull crack from the force.

_The Winter Soldier saw the world through the scope of his sniper rifle. Matthew Ellis, the President of the United States at the time was delivering a speech at a new park opening in Washington, DC. It was the mid July of 1979 and even the sweet summer air brushing through the soldier's disheveled locks and filling his nose couldn't distract him. When President Ellis paused in his speech and the air stilled, the Winter Soldier took his shot. His metal finger wrapped around the trigger and pulled back without a shred of regret weighing down on him. He turned away and murmured into his communicator that the job was completed, his hushed words competing over sounds of the crowd erupting in panicked screams._

The soldier had a rifle in his hands, coated with blood most likely belonging to the agent he killed and snatched it from. He whipped the gun into the air as heavy footsteps approached, sniping off three more agents before he made a mad dash for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't too confusing. Winter Soldier is a little lost himself. 
> 
> Right after I publish this, I find my friend watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and wished I would've watched the movie for some inspiration for this chapter. If you're not familiar with the film, it's basically about mind alterations and memories. It's a groovy movie.
> 
> The next chapter should pick up with the team trying to find out who saved them. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio finds their secret rescuer. A new character is officially introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter at 1:34 in the morning when I was interrupted by a phone call that my grandpa had died. Then, I went right back to writing. Isn't that terrible? :D
> 
> *Brief Language- new character's got a slight potty mouth
> 
> Sorry for any typos.

The next morning, they drove the stolen HYDRA van down into the forest where Sam had last spotted their rescuer. Natasha smirked to herself in the middle seat as she watched his fingers subtly drum against the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. Steve pulled out his pocket notebook and crossed off _'Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin'_ as the song played. Sam let out an elongated, high pitched cry, attempting to sing the vocals of the song. Steve and Natasha effectively covered their ears before giving him a warning look to never make such an inhumanly sound again. Everyone was somewhat on edge considering they didn't know what they were heading into, but they'd never show it.

"That bad?" Sam joked about his singing before switching the radio to some classical music, the crackling of the radio blurring the sound. "Yes. This is much better." Natasha jokingly punched his shoulder, the unexpectedness of the act causing Sam to loose his grip of the wheel and swerve the car. He recuperated, managing not to drive into a tree as he looked dumbfounded at the redhead. "I'll promise not to sing like Zeppelin if you promise never to do that again." Sam breathed out in relief, causing Natasha's cheeks to burn as she tried to stop herself from grinning. She looked over to Steve to see he was nodding his head against the window, lips pulled into a thin smile. His blue eyes left hers, trailing down her body.

"How is it?" Steve asked, his voice was soft enough that he had to lean in so she could understand. He was hoping Sam was too distracted by the radio to hear. "How is-" Natasha's question was cut off when the Captain brushed his fingers under the strap of her tank top to reveal the gun wound on her shoulder. His eyes morphed into an empty quality only a soldier could have as he looked upon her scars. "Oh." Natasha's full lips pulled tight at the memory of how she got it, the deadly encounter with the Winter Soldier. "It's been a few months, so it's healing well." She replied absentmindedly, her mind too focused on Steve's lingering touch on the bruised flesh. He seemed equally fascinated and grieved by the marking as the callous pad of his fingertips caused a slight shiver to rake her body. "Plus," She continued, trying to keep her voice even. Steve whipped his head up and retracted his hand away from her bare shoulder when her words awoke him. "If the doctor who worked on Fury could bring him back from the supposed dead, I don't think a gun shot would be that hard to treat." Despite the convincing indifference Natasha seemed to portray, Steve couldn't help but wonder how many other scars littered her body as he gazed upon her.

"We're here."

* * *

The sound of car doors slamming shut immediately caused the man's senses to heighten. Despite nursing his third bottle of vodka for the past hour, he was more alert and deadly than any sober man. He sprung from his chair in front of the computer and snatched the rifle he had stolen from the previous owner (whom he had killed for terrorizing small towns in Afghanistan), obsessively cleaning every crevice of it throughout the night. He knew that whoever came knocking at the door of his secret bunker had to been in deep enough shit to come seeking him out. No one stopped by if they didn't need something for him, and no one was stupid enough to stop by for anything other than help. There was the muffled banging sound of someone knocking on his metal door. He sank back down in his desk chair and checked the live security feeds to see who it was.

_Black Widow._

He didn't recognize the other two standing behind her and assumed they were muscle. But if he knew anything, it was the the Black Widow didn't need anyone to protect her. Much less someone like the clownhead secretly dancing in the background. He decided to wait out the storm, knowing that even a woman such as Natasha only had so much patience. His eyes flashed wide open as he watched the front door be forcefully kicked down by the other man, whipping around in his chair to see it had in fact happened. Before him stood Natasha with her arms crossed, the dancing man cracking his knuckles, and the man who caused his door to collapse to the door with an effective dent from his foot. Out of reflex, the man flicked his rifle into the air, balancing it on his broad shoulder and training it on Natasha, whom he knew to be the most deadly.

"Nice gun, Castle." Natasha quipped, simply stepping over the metal door that lay on the ground and approaching him. Sam and Steve exchanged utterly confused looks with one another at the fact she knew who their secret rescuer was. "Thanks. It's one of Stark's actually. I pried it out of the dead hands of a terrorist." He huffed before carelessly tossing it back onto the table. "Isn't it funny how he supplies his own wars? It's almost as if he enjoys the fight." Natasha continued, knowing the only way to get Frank's attention was to keep him talking, which was a feat in and of itself. "If Stark had actually been in a war, seen half the things I have, he wouldn't be thinking that way anymore." There was that dead look in his eyes that resembled Steve's, the look of a damaged soldier. "But I doubt you kicked my goddamn door down just to chat about the bastard." Castle's head jerked up, effectively tearing himself away from the memories of war, his words able to momentarily distract him.

"You're right." Steve approached, pulling a chair from the table and twisting it around so he could sit in it backwards. "We want get some answers from you. Whoever you are." His eyes narrowed at the strange man adorned in a giant white skull painted on his black shirt. Frank didn't like it when people barged into his place, much less demanding things from him. "Let me just let you in on a little secret." He stood from his chair and loomed over the Captain. "I only give people what I want them to have. I'm not a fucking magic eight ball." The man's harsh attitude bristled Steve who rose to his feet so he was at eye level with him. His strong jaw shifted and tightened as his eyes rounded the man up in a scrutinizing manner. Their heaving chests were almost pressed up against one another as they stared the other down with slitted eyes, like two cowboys about to duel. The room was practically suffocating on their combatting pride.

"And you wanna know who I am? I am the Punisher."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused about anything, feel free to tell me so. Punisher won't have that important of a role in this story, so you don't really need to know much about him. He might show up a couple more times if you guys like him...
> 
> All you need to know is that some people say that he represents the negative effects of war, unlike Captain America who is the polar opposite. His name Frank Castle aka Punisher and he's killer, expert in many weapons, and computers. He also is quite anti-social. 
> 
> Frank and Natasha have a shard history with one another. That will be evident in the next chapter, but just hinted at instead of actually explored. 
> 
> Fun Fact: The man who portrayed the doctor who worked on Fury and also treated Natasha's shoulder wound is Anthony Russo, the director of the movie!
> 
> Thanks for any feedback! You guys are great.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of confronting Punisher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of angst, and brooding. (Man egos get in the way of everything, Steve and Frank really don't get along). Sorry about that. 
> 
> I recently watched Iron Man: Rise of Technovore and Avengers Confidential: Black Widow and Punisher. So that's what I'm mostly basing their odd friendship and history on. Some of it is just just I made up and not really canon. 
> 
> *Brief Language

_"I should have just went back to bed instead of saving your ungrateful ass."_

"We were more than capable of defending ourselves without the help of someone like you."

"Calm down, boys." Natasha wedged herself in between the two distraught men, turning her head both ways to gauge their reactions. When they finally backed off, she let out frustrated sigh. Ever since SHIELD dismantled and she was forced to flee until she could find a new cover, Natasha didn't feel she had much of a purpose. She felt more a babysitter that a spy. Steve stood by Sam's side, angrily whispering about how much time they were wasting on a guy like Punisher. Frank huffed before sitting down at a table and pulling a pack of cigarettes from a secret compartment. He tapped the carton until one fell out and was moving to reach for the box of matches when Natasha extended her lighter in front of him, lighting it up for him. He carefully eyed her up, trying to discern her unusual act of kindness. From his experience, no one was ever kind to him unless they wanted something. And in this case, he was right.

"You have until the end of this cigarette to say what you want, Widow." Frank spat out impatiently, his cracked lips opening, letting out a steady stream of smoke. Natasha nodded disapprovingly and chuckled to herself at his words as she slipped her lighter back in her pocket. "No," She stole the cigarette from his mouth and put it in her own, taking a long drag while her cool eyes never left him. "I have as much time as I want to take with you, Castle." Her words spilled just as smoothly as the smoke escaping her full lips that parted open. His fists clenched as he looked up at the redhead who sat languidly on the table top in front of him. No matter how hard he tried, Frank could never argue with Natasha. If he didn't give her what she wanted, they'd both end up bruised and back to where they started. He was tired, and wearing a new shirt, so he didn't want to get her blood on it.

"We're looking for someone." Steve interjected, he and Sam reluctantly coming to stand behind Natasha to enter the conversation again. "Care to elaborate?" Frank growled, the words barely escaping through his gritted teeth. "He operates under many aliases and guises, but he's currently known as the Winter Soldier." Natasha informed him, waving her hand at Sam to hand her the file on him. Frank's eyes flashed with emotion when he heard the name, looking upon Natasha gravely as she pretended this investigation held no personal meaning to her. She'd come to him before in the past about the Winter Soldier. Frank had been on the run from SHIELD, hiding out in Morocco when she found him. They made a deal that Natasha wouldn't turn him in to Fury if he would help her find James. The search was futile, but they formed a shaky friendship with one another from it.

"You probably saw us on the news eh?" Sam joked, elbowing Punisher with a toothy grin that was not recuperated. "News reporters take the truth, chew it up, and force feed it down our throats. You think I watch the crap they spew on TV?" Frank scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval at such an inane accusation. " _Crap?!_ I was looking fly on the channel 6 news broadcast." Sam shot back, fixing his shirt collar in a confident manner. "No pun intended." He added, looking over to Steve standing next to him who was trying not to smile. "That was totally intended." The Captain cracked a grin and elbowed his friend. Natasha and Frank watched with varying levels of patience as the two began chuckling amongst one another at the joke. When they realized they were being waited on to calm down, they eventually stopped.

"When's the last time you guys saw him?" Frank's eyes darted to the group before skimming the file given to him. Any semblance of joking dissipated as the hard truth had set in. Steve and Sam shared a worried look with one another as the reality that they hadn't gotten any leads on Bucky settled in. "Before the incident in DC?" Natasha tapped the cigarette ashes into an empty soda can as she waited for a response, Frank giving her a curt nod. "Well, he gave me this one in Odessa five years ago." She lifted her tank top up, revealing the gun wound that blemished her flesh. Steve watched intently in the background as Frank's fingers reached out the feel the scar. His hand had a surprisingly gentle hold on her hip, the ridges of his fingerprint bristling against her skin. "You like that?" Natasha quipped, her infamous smirk tugging at her lips as she watched Castle's steely eyes examine the mark. Steve immediately tightened up at the sight, but wouldn't allow his illogical jealously to interfere with whatever Natasha was playing at. His fingers stained with grime and gunpowder slipped away and curled into a fist in his lap.

"A Dragunov rifle." Frank informed the group, taking in their faces of shock considering no ballistics team could identify what rifle Winter Soldier used other than it's Soviet origins. Natasha's breath caught in her throat, lips parting open in silent shock at the revelation. "I've been known to leave scars." Punisher casually shrugged, leaning back in his chair and cracking his bruised knuckles. "I'm quite aware." Natasha's careful eyes roved over the man, her mind mulling over the new information she had received. She made the comment to distract the group from her reaction, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she didn't in fact know everything. She looked over her shoulder at Steve whose face was frozen in the same shocked expression. Eyes wide, mouth parted open, brows raised and causing creases in his forehead. Natasha had forgotten this was Steve's friend as well, and the new lead in their investigation was a probably a surprise to him. Her suspicions were correct. Steve's mind played back old memories with him and Bucky, them flashing before him like the moving picture shows he used to watch back in the day.

"So, can you help us or...?" Sam asked, his words trailing off as he waited for a response. Punisher sat silent for a moment, his intense eyes darting around as his mind raced. He was in the middle of tracking down the terrorist group Leviathan at the moment, but every lead was a dead end. And Black Widow hadn't shown up in his doorstep in years. He made the excuse he wanted to keep the friendship going in case he needed to call in a favor, but if he was honest with himself, Natasha was one of the only few women he came into contact with that made his life simpler, for the most part. "Yeah, I'll help you track the bastard." Frank finally decided, tossing the file onto the tabletop next to Natasha. Punisher had already rubbed Steve the wrong way, and referring to his friend as a bastard didn't help matters. He believed the term 'bastard' was reserved for the scum of the world. Those who chose to do evil, unlike Bucky who was forced into a tainted lifestyle.

"Listen here, _Punisher_ , Bucky isn't-"

"Easy, Rogers." Natasha sprung up from the tabletop and pressed her hands against his solid chest to act as barrier once more. Her smooth, husky voice cut through the mindless rage in Steve's mind and he forced himself to concentrate on it. He looked down at her, the comforting half smile on her face that didn't meet the grave understanding of her eyes. "That's considered a term of endearment to him." Natasha explained, whipping her head and looking over her shoulder to see Frank rolling his eyes. Sam let out a relieved sigh when everyone appeared to have calmed down, not until Punisher spoke up again. " _What?_ Is he your boyfriend or something?" He scoffed, propping his mud-stained boots on top of the table. Steve then realized what the guy's problem was. He'd never had anyone to be close with, so of course when he defended Bucky, Castle automatically assumed Bucky was his boyfriend. The Punisher doesn't have friends and made jokes to play it off.

"He's someone very dear to me, and I've lost him." Steve confessed softly, taking Natasha's hands and pulling them away so they fell by her sides. His demeanor suddenly turned grave, his eyes going dark and his body coiling up. "I don't expect a scum like you know what that feels like." That was the breaking point for Castle who bolted out of his seat so fast the chair clattered to to he floor. "That's all I feel! Day in day out!" Frank hollered, getting in Steve's face and pointing a stiff finger at him. "While you're out there fighting for the American dream and apple pie, I'm living a nightmare." He spat venomously, his nostrils flaring and teeth clenching as he stared the Captain down. "And you, _Widow_." Castle turned swiftly on his heels towards the redhead crossing her arms in the corner. His fingers captured Natasha's chin and yanked her head up so she looked at him. "Why don't you take your red, white, and blue bitch and his flying sidekick and get the hell outta here?!" He could feel her jaw tighten under his grip, piercing eyes holding his glare in an unforgiving manner before he stalked away.

"Hey now! I'm nobody's sidekick dammit!"

"Hold on a second, Frank-" Natasha's plea was cut off when she was thrown up against the wall. " _What?!_ " He hissed, his eyes bleeding raw fury as they darted around and examined her intently. "A lot of people are going to die if we don't find him fast." Castle's grip on her arms only tightened at her words. "Good, innocent people. You know that." His bulging eyes screwed shut as the memories came flooding in. His own family, a group of women at a bakery in Kabul, two hundred and fifty-seven people blown to dust in a church on Christmas Eve, thirty-five innocent girls sold into Madripoor for sex trafficking- "So don't do it for Cap, or even for me." Natasha's firm words brought him back to reality, his grip loosening as her wide eyes pleaded with him. "Just. Do it." She hissed, her heart faltering and chest rising and falling in a shallow manner as she waited for a response. She didn't even dare break eye contact with Punisher to see what Steve and Sam were doing. Her eyes were locked on the conflicted man who didn't consider himself a hero.

" _Manipulative bitch."_

"Gunslinging drunk."

The softness of Frank's eyes didn't match the roughness of his voice as he uttered the half hearted insult. A smile eased on Natasha's face when she realized she won, as always.

"If anyone else ever touched her like that, she'd have them on the floor screaming uncle in a second." Sam leaned in and whispered to Steve who was equally impressed and confused by Natasha. " _What gives_?" Sam shrugged frustratedly, he being just as out of the loop as the Captain was. "I think they're friends." Steve commented absentmindedly, his mind too focused on how Natasha carried herself so confidently around a manic and unreadable man such as Frank Castle. "Or the closest thing she has to a friend other than us." He huffed, turning to Sam and returning the grin his own friend gave him. "You think she knows Wolverine? I hear he has a thing for redheads." Sam joked, speaking through the corner of his mouth as the redhead herself approached them. Steve rolled his eyes in response and silently wondered who else Natasha was aquatinted with besides Frank and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I left it on an odd note. I had more written, but I had to cut it short. Basically Frank reluctantly agrees to help them find Bucky. 
> 
> Also, sorry again for all the arguing and angst! I'm not too happy with this chapter, but oh well.
> 
> Like I've said before, Punisher won't have that much involvement in the story...Unless you guys react well. I don't think I'll include him much more, because I want to keep this mostly MCU and there is already enough characters to juggle. 
> 
> I don't know when the next update will be considering I'm off break now, and I don't know where to go next with the story at the moment. 
> 
> Also, the Dragunov rifle part was made up by me. It's not revealed what weapon Winter Soldier uses, which makes it much harder to track him.
> 
> Thanks for all the support as usual! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha confesses about her past to the group in order to help with the investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am altering Natasha's past so it mixes with the movie and comic canon, but mostly comic canon tbh. 
> 
> Sorry for any typos as usual.

"You better not ask for any money back guarantee if I can't find anything." Frank muttered under his bourbon laced breath, fingers tapping away at his dusty, outdated keyboard. "Last time I checked, we _weren't_ paying you." Sam commented frankly, his eyes narrowing at the vigilante. The constant patter of the keyboard ceased, Castle's fingers clenching up instead of typing. "Maybe you should after what you guys did to my goddamn door-" He turned around and was faced with a death glare from Natasha that could humble just about anyone, even Frank Castle it turned out. He huffed before turning back around, focusing on finding something on Bucky. "I'm surprised you managed to find anything on the bast-" Frank's words faltered when he remembered what happened last time he called Captain America's buddy a bastard. _"Winter Soldier."_ He corrected himself, electing to refrain from using the word unless another unnecessary showdown started. Everyone ignored the slip up, their minds too concentrated on the blank screen that showed no results in the database.

"How did you manage to get a whole file's worth of intel on the guy? He's practically a ghost- Almost as good at staying off the grid as I am." Castle turned around in his desk chair, the wood creaking was the only sound in the room as they all looked expectantly at Natasha. Sam bit back the urge to comment on how he couldn't have been that good at 'staying off the grid' if they found him. "I have a friend here in Kiev." She eased out, any signs of anxiety at the sudden questioning were undetectable. "They owe me a few favors." She shrugged, suddenly remembering her training that when one must lie, they should never reveal too much or too little details. Leave them guessing, but leave them satisfied.

"Well I'd like to meet the guy who manages to have more information than my personal database does. He could come in handy." Frank smirked at her, knowing he had trapped her in a lie since he knew the truth. Natasha had told him the truth about her history with Winter Soldier. The Latin phrase 'fallaces sunt rerum species' might as well have been her motto if it wasn't already. It was known amongst the group that Natasha was aquatinted with Bucky, as to what extent- Well, she gave them enough information to keep them satisfied, of course. Most people don't actually want to know the truth, just anything that resembles it so they can sleep easy at night. But Frank had planted the seed of doubt in Steve's mind. A mind that was wired to seek the truth, regardless of the impact.

"I assume your database is a lot like Stark's- hacking into classified government mainframes for your own personal use." Steve nudged his head at the collection of old computer monitors in multiple rows that displayed various files, photos, blueprints, and maps. Frank huffed softly, shaking his head in disapproval at the comment. " _First off_ , I'm nothing like Stark." He corrected the Captain, not wanting to be affiliated to the billionaire that got his ass into more much trouble than saved it. "I don't need high tech gadgets to find out what makes the government's hands dirty." For once, Natasha was grateful the two started bickering again, it removing the attention off of her so she could fully decide what her plan of action was. "And by stealing government information, I save people's lives. When the government comes swooping in, reading everyone's emails and shit, what's their excuse?" This was one thing the two men seemed to agree on, the truth causing everyone to fall silent in contemplation.

"My point was, if Punisher's database has all government affiliated intelligence, and there are no files showing up, where did your friend get all that dirt on Bucky?" Steve focused his attention on Natasha, turning on his heels so he was facing her. His mind raced with a million scenarios, trying to explain how Natasha acquired such information that even the world's federal agencies couldn't get a hold of. He thought back to when she confessed to hunting the Winter Soldier down when he confronted her in the hospital and wondered what exactly did she find. "I think we should go have a little talk with this friend instead, see if he has any other useful information for us. He is in town, as you said." His careful eyes narrowed at the redhead, gauging any signs of insecurity. But the Black Widow could tell a blatant lie more confidently than one could tell the blatant truth. Yet sometimes, she chose not to.

"Let's just say this," Natasha casually stepped away, wandering around the room and fiddling with different objects left lying around. "If Zola's algorithm was implemented, and those helicarriers went up in the air," She set down a rusty blade which had seen better days from Frank's time in the Vietnam War. "My friends would be some of the first people to be scratched off the face of the planet." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't a straight answer either. It was a distraction from the truth. Steve refused to read all the secrets Natasha leaked onto the internet about her past, it wouldn't do him any good in figuring the woman out. 'Truth is a matter of circumstance' That's what she told him, so he didn't know what he could trust to be solid information about her. Steve knew she made a living doing less than desirable deeds before (and during) her time with SHIELD, heard her talk about the red in her ledger. But he didn't know exactly what those deeds entailed. And it seemed like he wasn't going to either. Natasha didn't want to tell them that there was no friend on Kiev, just a desperate woman trying to piece together her past. She wouldn't confess that she had spent years complying all the information in the file herself. Or how she used her last Christmas vacation in Siberia chasing fruitless leads about the Winter Soldier.

" _Natasha_ ," Steve's earnest voice cut through the confusion of memories and anxiety that littered her mind. "We're not going to judge you for what you did- You did what you had to in order to survive." He carefully approached Natasha who was absentmindedly fiddling with a pair of jumper cables. The image of her wide eyes locked on him, bleary with tears she was too proud to shed would be etched into his memory. "I think I can speak for everyone here that we've all been there." Steve waved his hand at Frank and Sam who gave affirming nods of assurance. "With that being said," He reached out to gently grip onto her shoulders that tensed up. "We need you to tell us everything you know about Bucky." Silence filled the room again as she contemplated whether or not she would betray her secrets, or her friends. In the background, Frank began coughing violently, his body heaving as he spat out a mixture of tar and blood onto the floor. The interruption caused Natasha to break eye contact, instead looking to Sam that was scowling at the gross display Frank put on.

"Blue Monday." Natasha blurted out, her heart beat stuttered as the words escaped on their own accord. Everyone looked at each other clueless as to what the phrase meant, waiting patiently for her to explain. "Blue Monday is codename for the Soviet ran project to create their own version of the super serum. Winter Soldier was one of the many candidates that worked hand in hand with Department X, more specially the Red Room, which is where I was also trained." Steve bit down into his fist, standing stock still for some time before anxiously pacing around the room. Sam sat on the edge of the table he was leaned against, massaged his temples to get rid of the tension in his head. Despite this, Natasha looked to Frank who seemed relatively unphased by everything and decided to continue stating the facts. "The project is relatively dormant as of now. The last recorded experiments I am aware of stopped in the early seventies during the peak of the Cold War." This made Steve stopping pacing before slowly turning to face her again.

"Hold on a moment, Zola said you were born in '84." Steve placed a hand on his hip, his other hand preoccupied in pointing an accusatory finger. "So how is it possible that you were around for those experiments in the seventies?" When his question was met with silence, he stalked over to Natasha and captured her chin so she was forced to look at him. "Are you really going to believe everything that computer told you?" She shot back venomously, glaring at Steve before grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand off of her. "The real question is, am I really going to believe everything _you_ have told me." Steve swallowed hard, his throat burning and closing from saying such words. It was harsh, but it was the truth. And the truth is always less brutal than realizing you've been lied to by one of the only people you could count on. Sam, one of the other few people he could count on, approached the pair when he felt the situation was getting out of hand. Frank elected to flick open a can of beer and take a long gulp before leaning his head against his computer desk. But Sam's counseling words all went numb in Natasha's ears as she continued to meet Steve's disappointed glare.

"Look up Blue Monday on your database, Castle. It has all the information you need about me, and the Winter Soldier." Natasha ordered. Frank, who was grateful that he had something useful do besides watching all the mushy display of emotions, started typing right away. "I don't want just any information, Natasha. I need the truth- I need you to be completely honest with me." Steve's tone softened as he held her shoulders, pleading eyes having no effect considering Natasha's head was tilted to the side. Her lips tightened as the cold dread overcame her again when Frank called out that he found the file, Steve then leaving her side. The shock on Sam and Steve's faces was illuminated by the glow of the computer. They found out that Natasha was born in 1928, and had the Soviet's version of the super serum to enhance her, as well as the Winter Soldier who trained and fought alongside her. Blue Monday had access to every HYDRA site in the world that was still active, and only one test subject remained: James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes. There was an active facility in Dresden that showed to be the last reported sighting of the subject.

"So we gotta go to Dresden now?" Sam looked over to Frank and Steve who remained dangerously silent leading up until that moment. He couldn't even trust himself to speak, instead electing to firmly nod in agreement with his friend's plan. "I'm not going with you bastards to Dresden. Too artsy." Frank scoffed before tipping back his can of beer. "Plus, I got my own duty and way of handling justice that doesn't exactly meet your level of righteousness, Rogers." He added casually before crumpling the empty can and tossing it away with breaking eye contact. Steve sized up the Punisher before shelling out a stack of dollar bills from his pocket and giving a salute. Frank just huffed before looking to Natasha who seemed to be holding it quite well considering she hated revealing things about her past- her actual past. Not whatever lies she used when convenient. Steve stepped over the metal door he just paid to get fixed when Sam grabbed onto his shoulder to stop him.

"Can we stop in Moldova first? I wasn't kidding about leaving my wallet there."

* * *

"Hey, come here." Frank grabbed Natasha's arm before she slipped through the doorway and pulled back inside. "Last time when I showed up at your place asking for help on that Leviathan case, you said you didn't work in teams. Now you're with the Avengers, and traveling with goddamn Captain America, chasing around some lost cause-"

" _James is not a lost cause._ " Natasha cut him off sharply, already on edge from what happened earlier and not wanting to think it was all for nothing, for a lost cause. "And last time I checked, you said the Punisher works alone. Yet here we are." She shrugged and gave him a small smirk that slipped away when he spoke again.

"What are you really doing, Natasha? What are you getting from all this? Hmm?" He nudged her chin up with his bruised knuckles so she'd focus on him. He knew when her mind started to drift when she got that lost soldier's stare. That was one of the many things she was, a soldier. And a damn good one too despite her well hidden insecurities about it.

"Steve's a good man, Sam too. Despite whatever just went down here, all they want is to help and protect me. I need that now more than ever." Natasha confessed, her eyes flitting about confusedly when she couldn't get a read on her friend's response. A car honk broke through the silence and Natasha gave Frank a kiss on the cheek like she did with Steve when she thought that would be the last time she saw him. Frank got the message she was sending, and watched from the damaged doorway of his bunker as the stolen HYDRA van disappeared into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to upload another chapter, I've been rather sick lately and not feeling as motivated to continue this story. Hopefully I can get better soon and whip something up. 
> 
> Blue Monday is something I made up and isn't apart of any canon. It's just codename for HYDRA's secret files.
> 
> Last chapter with Punisher. Next chapter will most likely have some Winter Soldier interactions. 
> 
> The Latin phrase 'fallaces sunt rerum species' roughly translates to 'the appearance of things can be deceiving' which is a nod to Iron Man 2 when Natasha/Natalie Rushman says that to Tony Stark. 
> 
> Hope I didn't miss anything...
> 
> If you have any questions or thoughts, please feel free to comment, I respond to all of them. And you all once again, for your support especially at this time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in Dresden to see the last reported location where Bucky was when Natasha runs into a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I usually will strive to update each week, but I've been recovering for the hospital and it's been my birthday so it's just been hard to find time to update.
> 
> *Mild violence and brief mention of blood
> 
> Sorry as usual for any typos. There were a whole bunch in the last chapter. Oops.

They arrived in Dresden the next day by an industrial plane they managed to catch last minute. There was an air of tension between them- Steve brooding and Natasha staring out the small window stoically. Sam's eyes darted between the two before electing to fall asleep and hopefully waking to see they had made up. He knew though that it wasn't going to be that simple. Trust was hard to come by in their business and Steve couldn't help but feel conflicted towards Natasha. _What other surprises and secrets could she be hiding? Does she know anything else that could intervene with the investigation? How much does she actually know about Bucky?_ Steve's eyes flickered to the redhead sitting stiffly next to him. It pained him that their relationship seemed to go downhill all the sudden. It was merely a minor setback, he assured himself. Their relationship was strong enough to endure these kinds of bumps in the road. But he used to feel pride when Natasha would ease next to him after a mission considering she couldn't be relaxed with many others. Now her body was strung up and revealing nothing as she sat next to him, fingers clenching to the armrests and eyes latched onto the expanse of the deep purple sky.

Eventually, Natasha's shoulders slumped and eyelids grew heavy as she strived to stay awake. Her mind had kept her alert for most of the plane ride, but it eventually wore her out. She lolled her head against the hard surface of the window, only to be awakened by air turbulence. Steve watched Natasha press her legs against her chest and try and succumb to sleep despite the shaking plane stirring her awake again. Then it hit him- What if Natasha had withheld the truth about her actual past because _she_ didn't trust him? Steve convinced himself that she did so in order to protect them. _'Nobody can spill the secrets if nobody knows them.'_ That's what Fury said. When Natasha last withheld information that pertained to a mission, Fury also said it was merely _compartmentalization_. Even if Steve didn't fully trust Natasha, it would only impede on the success of their mission to stay upset. Without her, they wouldn't have been able to find any leads in the first place.

"Natasha." Steve nudged his head, signaling for her to come closer. Natasha blinked her eyes at him and contemplated the offer for a long moment before accepting it. She didn't think she deserved to be forgiven so quickly, especially from a righteous man as Steve. She didn't like to buy into the idea that Captain America was naive, but he had to be to some degree if he thought it wise to trust the Black Widow. Natasha's eyes flickered away from his understanding ones, not wanting to be affected by the hazy blue irises that reminded her of melting glaciers. Steve lifted the armrest up which worked as a temporary barrier between them and extended his arm out for her to nestle against him. He watched her body deflate- from defeat or tiredness, he couldn't tell. He was just glad to feel her against him once more; if not for her comfort, than his own.

Not wanting to dwell any longer on the matter of the spy's trust, he focused his thoughts to the sensations he felt. Natasha's warm breath fanning against his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her auburn hair just barely falling down her shoulders that he smoothed with careful fingers. Her fingers subtly tightening their hold on his cotton tee shirt when the plane would rattle. Steve wanted to tell Natasha that it wasn't her fault, just as she'd done for him multiple times over. That the blood on her hands and the lies she uttered were a failsafe and instilled into her by means even he couldn't imagine. But the words died out on his tongue like a spark that never caught flame when he realized Natasha was fast asleep. His thoughts of her were interrupted by a soft huff coming from Sam who was watching everything play out with a smirk on his face.

* * *

They decided to find the coordinates the file stated Bucky was last stationed at before doing anything else. They caught a cab to the undisclosed HYDRA site and found it to be a supposedly abandoned morgue. Not a surprising location to set up shop considering Pierce and his HYDRA goons held the Winter Soldier down in the vault room of a bank. Shards of glass littered the pavement their careful feet stepped over, the stench of gun smoke and rotting corpses filled their noses, and the only sound heard was a howling wind that rattled the surrounding trees. Above the front entrance there was a sign with words written in some foreign language, but not German as Steve suspected it would be since they were in Dresden. 'Taceant colloquia. Effugiat risus. Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.' Natasha looked over and detected their confusion about what the words on the sign meant and decided to read it aloud for them:

"Let conversation cease, let laughter flee. This is the place where death delights to help the living." Natasha stated simply. She knew the phrase considering it was a common motto for morgues, especially those in Europe built in the early twentieth century as she presumed this one was. After she finished translating, she slowly turned on her heels back to pair who were looking baffled at her. "Since when did you know Latin?" Sam blurted out, his eyes bulging in surprise and hands on his hips. It seemed the redhead was full of too many surprises to keep up with. She merely smirked at him before sauntering inside the building. "Since when did you know everything about me?" Natasha called over her shoulder as she reached out for the door handle.

"Hold on there." Steve's hand darted out and latched onto the spy's shoulder to pull her back. "We need a plan first before we go barging inside the place." His careful eyes shifted about the building, observing for any unusual signs. In the back of Natasha's mind, she feared this was another dead end to trick them just as she presumed the army base in New Jersey was. Regardless, she would allow the Captain to carry out his plan just to put his mind at rest. "Sam, you check out the back area. I'm going to go inside and sweep the vicinity." The pilot gave a curt nod of understanding before flying off to the other end of the property. "Nat, I need you to circle around the perimeter." She placed the orders given to her in the back of her mind as she concentrated on cocking her handgun. When she looked up again, she found Steve was still standing in front of her with an unreadable look on his face- concern, confusion, worry? She didn't understand why he was looking at her as such and elected to complete the simple task given instead of sticking around to find out.

Steve repressed the thoughts he couldn't fathom into coherent words as he watched her walk away. He almost wanted to order her to join him instead, but wouldn't let wanting to be near her undermine the direness of this mission. He needed eyes everywhere, even if his own only wished to keep close watch on the redhead. He felt conflicted because Natasha had once again grown distant and indifferent with him. It took months of training and working together before she allowed that facade to dissipate, and now she only seemed to care about the work again. No witty remarks, no borderline flirtatious smirks- Nothing. He wasn't aware as to why this was so- He thought they had been on decent terms when they snuggled close together on the plane, much to Sam's amusement. Then realized that perhaps she was just being professional considering they were in the middle of a manhunt for Bucky. With this thought suddenly hitting Steve as to why he was in a morgue in Dresden, he put aside his feelings and went to work scoping the place out.

Natasha began circling around the building, eyes roving over the bullet holes in the uncleaned windows towards the overgrown ivy that suffocated the brick walls. She absentmindedly kicked shards of glass and pebbles that were in her path, arms subtly swinging by her side. Halfway around the building already and not a thing was out of sight. There was no one around other than the dead body of a women, her blood had dried onto the pavement around her. Based on this, Natasha deduced whoever was around days ago when this happened either died or fled the scene. Since it was the Winter Soldier responsible, she knew no one escaped him. A subtle rustling in a nearby bush awoke her from these thoughts, her head whipping up from instinct reaction to the disturbance. Natasha saw overhead Sam wave as he breezed past her before carefully landing on his feet. She rolled her eyes and kept on idly walking around the building.

"Remain calm, Natalia."

The sharpness of the voice matched the sensation of the knife pressed against Natasha's throat, biting into her skin just enough to send her the message. Her fighting instincts kicked in and she immediately sprung into action. She grabbed onto the arm wrapped around her from behind and used her weight to flip him to the ground. The agent landed with a hard thud which caused the air to get knocked out of him. This was more than enough time for Natasha to step on the hand that held the knife hard enough that the man yelped in pain. She wasn't satisfied until she heard it clatter to the ground. Her eyes traveled from the hand to its owner and that's when she froze. Natasha's heart faltered and began to beat painfully in her tightening chest. The foot pressing down relinquished its pressure on the man's hand as she stumbled back a little with a shaky hand covering her mouth.

"Fyodor, what's going on? Why have you come here? I-" So many questions festered in her mind at the sight of her friend from Kiev. They greeted each other by combat, always testing the other's skills when least expected. Yes, the friend from Kiev was in fact real, but wasn't the one who gathered the information on the file of the Winter Soldier. The Black Widow operated well with half-truths. "I must speak with you at once, Natalia." Fyodor picked up the knife from the pavement and slipped it into his holster before guiding his friend behind a nearby tree. "I see you haven't lost your touch." He casually referred to her fighting abilities as he placed a hand on the small of her back and led her away. "Nor yours." Natasha plainly replied as she painfully gripped her friend's hand that brushed lower and lower- "But I doubt you came here just for that, you got the waitress at Café Kunuski to do that with." She joked before peering passed the tree they hid behind to see if Steve or Sam was nearby.

"You're right. I'm not here for games, surprisingly. I come with important information that will severely get me into trouble if anyone finds I let it slip." Fyodor gave her a genuinely serious look that she hadn't seen since his mother was shot dead by rebel soldiers. "What is it? The suspense is killing me." Whether she was joking of not, he could not discern. It was in fact killing her, but she made no sign of it- merely leaning back against the tree and brushing her fingers against the textured bark as she waited. "It's about James- I know of his whereabouts." Any attempts at hiding her anxiousness were tossed away as she firmly pushed off the tree so she stood straight, eyes flashing wide with many conflicting emotions. "Where? Tell me now, Fyodor." Natasha's voice turned grave as she unrelentingly stared her friend down. When silence filled the air, her fists tightened by her sides and he knew this to be the sign that she was preparing to spring into action again. And with a potentially fractured hand from when she stepped on it, and again when he tried to touch her backside- he didn't want to mess around any longer.

"The Museum of Ethnology- tonight. Nineteen hundred hours. There will be a party hosted by Leonid Gretavsky, who happens to be-"

"The main head of the KGB." Natasha interrupted, her mind already flitting through information and piecing things together. She had to find Bucky and stop him before he did something stupid like try to enlist into the organization. She knew how soldiers worked from observing and being intimate with Steve, and from her own personal experience of being one herself- Soldiers don't have homes, they have orders. Their homes are the safe houses they reside in, and their family is their comrades. Once you take that away, they lose a purpose. Soldiers begin to feel dependent on having orders to complete considering their whole lives have been devoted to the agency of others, not their own. She knew what she had to do in order to save him, and a selfish part of her thought if she was the one who brought back Bucky, perhaps Steve would fully trust her again. She gave her friend a curt nod of thanks and understanding before leaving to finish her loop around the perimeter.

"You know what you have to do, and you must do so alone." Fyodor called out to her, his eyes pleading with steely sorrow and distress. Natasha stopped dead in her tracks, mind suddenly overcome with the remembrance of the familiar phrase. The phrase told to her before each mission she completed under the control of the KGB itself. It grew silent for a long moment before she looked over her shoulder at her friend.

"When has it ever been any different for me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the plot with pick up in the next chapter and won't be so boring. 
> 
> I had to cut this one off before it got too long, so hopefully I can finish up the next chapter I already started and update again soon. 
> 
> I hope everything is making sense so far and that everyone is enjoying themselves. Any questions or comments are graciously appreciated. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha goes as her friend Fyodor's date to the KGB reunion, but they both have other secretive reasons for agreeing to go together. Steve and Sam try their best to figure out the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I said this chapter would come soon, it was such a pain to write. 
> 
> Fyodor is supposed to be 'the friend from Kiev' but I'm just making up details since we don't know anything about him.
> 
> Typos, I know. Sorry in advance. I'm a terrible self-editor.

" _A date?_ What for?" Steve inquired, seemingly baffled by the concept of it all. He rested his fist against the bathroom door, ear pressed so he could listen to what was going on in the other side. He tried to imagine what she was doing based on the muffled noises- A soft clicking sound meant she had uncapped a tube of lipstick, the newly additional clacking against the tile floor suggested she just slipped a pair of heels on. As other sounds preoccupied his mind, like the water running or a blowdryer humming, he tried to imagine Natasha on a date. A part of the whole thing made his blood simmer with controlled jealousy. Of course he understood Natasha wanted to take her mind away from the mission- the stress was getting the best out of them all. He just didn't understand why it couldn't be he whom alleviated it. As long as she was happy, he supposed-

"I need to get out of here, that's all." Her voice was smooth even through the barrier of the door before she swung it open. "Nothing personal." Natasha stepped out in a golden beaded party dress that somehow managed to hide the minimum of three weapons she always had strapped to her. There was a matching necklace that draped between the valley of her breasts, suitable for a noblewoman. Steve's eyes roved from the dangerous slit of the dress that trailed up her thigh to the handgun she was reloading efficiently. She gave it all her attention, glossy lips drawn tight in determination as slender fingers mantled the weapon in an effortless manner. She joked about that being her goal in life as a child, to beat the record time in the Red Room for loading a gun. _13.4 seconds_. Despite the soft chuckle and roll of her eyes, he knew she was serious. He knew that some things were engrained into her from her days of training and torture, and that every time she loaded a gun she secretly timed herself was only proof. Or after particularly brutal missions and days that tested her morals, he noticed that Natasha wouldn't use a blanket when she fell asleep. One time he asked her about it, and she answered that the Red Room considered blankets to be an earned privilege. Any self-contained lust Steve built up from seeing Natasha dressed up fizzled away when the sobering memories toke over.

No one questioned why she was equipping herself with weapons. They all made a pact to never leave without something to defend themselves with after what happened with Sam in Kiev. If this really was just a date, Natasha probably wouldn't have taken so many precautions, but did so to appease Sam and Steve's worrying minds. But it wasn't just a date, things were never that simple for the Black Widow. She was surprised her teammates hadn't caught on to that yet. Her supposed date would be at the hotel room any moment to whisk her away to a party where she would in fact be dancing. But her purpose of going was not pleasure, but to find Bucky and hopefully win back Steve's trust. She preferred the term half-truth rather than white lies. It made doing the things she had to do easier- or perhaps more bearable. As she gently tugged the nude colored stockings up her slender thighs, she considered the risks of the operation. If all did not go according to plan, where would that leave their investigation? Where would that leave Natasha's relationship with Steve if he couldn't trust her? Both would presumably be in shambles, which was why she all the more determined to make sure everything went smoothly.

"So who's the lucky bastard?" Sam's easy voice penetrated her thoughts, she whipping her head up to see him leaning against the nearby wall with a crooked smile on his face. His relaxed demeanor changed her for the better. Natasha let out a deep breath and felt her body deflate and the tenseness that usually kept her strung tight seemed to dissolve. "He's an old friend of mine, he's taking me ballroom dancing." She commented, gazing through the reflection of the mirror she stood in front of to see that Sam was bemusedly shaking his head at her. "Of course, you can't just do something _normal_ like go see a movie or something." Natasha bit her bottom lip to stop the smile from spreading across her face at his joke, electing to give the pilot a gentle shove as she walked past. Steve sat back and gave his friend a scolding look that read _'give her a break'_ as he sat with his arms folded. He interpreted the redhead's unusually frantic movements to be associated with going on a date. They didn't get much contact with other people, much less one's they could trust- so he didn't want to make things worse by joking with her. Little did he know that the last thing on Natasha's mind was such trivial things as that.

Three consecutive knocks on the door got the group's attention.

"That's him." Natasha announced before breezing towards the door and opening it to find her friend standing around. Fyodor kissed her cheek in greeting before slipping inside the hotel room they all camped out at. He was met by the unrelenting glare of the two borderline overprotective friend's he was warned about. "What's your name?" Sam stepped forward first, pursing his lips as his brown eyes roved over the stranger in a scrutinizing manner. "Fyodor." The man mustered out, beads of sweat already surfaced on the temples of his creased forehead. Because of his thick accent and the quickness of how he spoke, Sam heard him wrong. " _Theodore?_ That's my older brother's name!" He exclaimed, clapping the man's shoulder and grinning at him. Before Fyodor could correct him, the other friend stepped forward and interrupted. "Do you got a last name, Fyodor?" The sturdy, well-built man with a sternness lining his features was the Captain he presumed that Natasha had warned him about as well.

"Dostoyevsky."

"Isn't that the name of the dude who wrote Crime and Punishment?" Sam asked, face scrunched up confusedly as he rubbed the scruff on his chin. Fyodor wasn't prepared with a full, well versed cover- he thinking he would only have to show up at the door and pick his friend up without having to deal with being prodded at. "Yeah, my mother's a big fan." He stumbled out, the justification of his oddly familiar name only making the man seem more suspicious. "Guys, you don't need to interrogate him." Natasha waltzed back into the room with her purse in hand, eyebrows coming together in frustration. She was already worried about how well this operation was going to pan out, she didn't need to worry about Fyodor screwing things up whenever he opened his mouth. " _What?_ Your dad never gave your boyfriends a hard time when they met each other?" Sam shared a chuckle with Steve before turning around to see she wasn't amused in the slightest.

"I wouldn't know." Natasha responded plainly, eyes hardening in a similar manner to a film of ice freezing over and encompassing them. Their chuckles died down when they looked upon her and witnessed the subtle transformation- a brief flash of vulnerability that died out almost as soon as it was kindled. The redhead gave her friends a tight, unconvincing smile before looking to Fyodor who was waiting patiently in the doorway. They couldn't afford to be late for what was bound to happen, for different reasons they would later find out. Natasha huffed softly before bestowing a feeble kiss on Steve's cheek as she did on their last goodbye in the graveyard. The soldier couldn't help himself from reaching out to bury his fingers into her smooth, freshly straightened locks of hair when she pulled away. He knew whenever Natasha was severely stressed, her neck would tense up. His fingers that cradled the back of her head began the knead the strung up nerves to help her relax. Natasha's eyes softened as they fell upon him before fluttering shut, a quiet moan- almost a purr escaped her lips at the sensation. Steve didn't think much of it, but would later kick himself for not seeing the signs then. Before Sam could also get a kiss on the cheek and an answer as to when she was coming back, Natasha was already out the door.

" _Dostoyevsky?_ You couldn't have come up with a better cover name than that?" Natasha huffed at Fyodor once she closed the room door behind her. He was hoping she had forgotten his slip up, or maybe the impromptu massage she got would have loosened her up. But once she left the room, her nerves turned to steel again as she got into mission mode. "Now I remember why they never put you in field work." She muttered under her breath as she jabbed the down button of the elevator. The doors slid open and they were relieved to find the space empty. Natasha looked out the glass panels to watch their descent, frantic eyes darting about the scenery of the hotel. "You look gorgeous, if that makes you feel any better." Fyodor sputtered out sheepishly, torn between the uncomfortable intensity of silence and the fear of further angering the spy. She turned to face her friend, fingers tightening their hold on the railing as her eyes turned sharp like the daggers strapped to her body. The only reason she put so much effort was she had too much time to kill and needed a distraction. But now? Her appearance was the most insignificant thing on her mind at the moment. Fyodor held his hands up in surrender and elected to remain silent for the remainder of the ride. He watched her storm out into the lobby, dress sashaying as she moved swiftly down the hallway.

* * *

The pair arrived at the museum through the back entrance as all the guests were instructed. The cold air hit Natasha's bare skin immediately after she stepped outside of the town car designated for them. Fyodor silently offered his jacket to her as they approached the building, but she waved him off. She needed the cold, it kept her alert. She didn't deserve the privilege of warmth, not yet. It barely registered in the back of her mind that he was being unusually nice to her, he usually too caught up in the mission to pay attention to her needs. She averted her eyes to Fyodor, his surprisingly dainty fingers not tainted by years at war clenched her arm and pulled her close. His bleary eyes met hers and he gave her a lopsided grin, as if the action of smiling was unnatural to him. Before she could comment on his overall demeanor, they were met by two men in suits who turned out to be some of Fyodor's old friends. Her body tightened up on its own accord as the strangers came to embrace her as well. Their hands were calloused and arms felt restricting to her. She longed for Steve to pry them away and take their place. Their was always a sense of safety that came with his embraces that made the spy crave them during risky missions. 'An emotional crutch, much like a child who uses a security blanket in order to fall asleep' Natasha imagined her KGB instructor who was there that night to say if he was aware of the little factoid.

They were no metal detectors or security searches- they were spies, of course they'd be carrying weapons. The only security was a stout man with a clipboard who was keeping an eye on everyone who entered the ballroom. He did a double take when he saw Natasha, she being one of the most recognizable agents to have walked the planet. She was met by similar reactions from everyone else as she walked inside the spacious room. Considering they were all spies, it was subtle. A quick shift of the eyes in her direction or brief tensing of ones body as she breezed by. In her mind, she told herself they all stared because she looked good that night. And she did. Either way, it was a major confidence boost to know she was still had an effect on people. Fear and lust always dancing on the fine point of a blade she found. And a confidence boost was exactly what she needed when her hands began to tremble as they plucked a slender glass of champagne and brought it to her lips.

Natasha told Fyodor to scram when she realized how clingy he was, which was odd since he was always getting distracted by all the beautiful women and felt the need to paw at them. Another reason he was never tasked with field work. As much as she loved him, she couldn't get any work done if he was clinging to her like a life reserve. The storm wasn't there yet, but Natasha could sense chaos approaching like a slow-building tide that would descend upon them without mercy.

She allowed herself to be whisked away by a couple of agents that were confident enough to ask for her hand. One even dared to skim his hand up her dress and smirked when he found the dagger he suspected to be strapped to her upper thigh. Natasha's hand which cradled the man's neck merely tightened her grip and utilized his pressure point until he collapsed like a sack of bricks. No one paid mind to this as the redhead stepped over the slumped body and found another dance partner seconds later. Natasha managed to put on a convincing sense of enjoyment as she danced with Alexei, an old partner of hers that she worked alongside during the aftermath of WWII. They chatted idly as he gently twirled her about, reminiscing about them seeing the violinist Bronislaw Huberman in concert together in '47 as one of his songs played in the background. Despite her soft words, her eyes were a sharp contrast as they scoped out the spacious room.

Natasha retreated to the bar after the fifth song once her feet started killing her and ordered a dry martini. Her mind became distracted as she watched the young bartender pour the vodka into the shaker and rattle and twist the container in a hypotonic manner. Her concentration focused back when the boy slid the drink to her and winked before attending to the next person. She feigned idle curiosity as she stalked around the perimeter of the ballroom, but stopped when her eyes fell upon someone. A lone man stood with his back turned away from everyone. One leather clad hand had an exceedingly tight grip on the glass in his hand which he threw back and emptied with one gulp. His other gloved hand raked it's fingers through his slicked back hair, as if the man wasn't used to the uncomfortable sensation of wearing gel. Natasha took pity on him all alone in a corner and decided to approach him for a dance. She tapped the man's shoulder lightly and he jumped and jerked his head to the person who had touched him. Natasha backed away in shock and accidentally bumped into a server boy carrying a tray of drinks. Even the sounds the metal tray clattering to the marble floor, or the glasses shattering couldn't pull her from the trance. Everyone's eyes were focused on her considering the commotion she caused, but Natasha couldn't tear hers away from the man before her.

The Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If things don't make sense, that's how it's supposed to be. All will be revealed in the next chapter- which will be even harder to write than this one I presume. 
> 
> Fyodor Dostoyevsky who is referenced in this chapter is an author. I'm reading one of his novels and wanted to give a nod to him somehow. It comes a point where I can't even read a story and enjoy it without comparing the writer's style to my own. Needless to say, I am exceedingly jealous of Dostoyevsky's talent and it makes me feel crappy about my own nonexistent abilities... 
> 
> What about that little hint at Steve/Natasha eh? There will be more of that to come in the next chapters, if you're into it. 
> 
> Sorry again that this chapter is such a mess. It's just been hard to churn out more writing these days. But I will regardless!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Natasha at the KGB party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would try and synthesize Natasha's back story with the comic and movie canon. In the movie and depending on which comics you read, they say she was affiliated with the KGB so I thought I would let you all know that in this story, Nat was raised in the Red Room and Department X but moved on to join the KGB as well. 
> 
> Leonid Gretavsky is a fictitious character who was the head of the KGB when Natasha was around and still is the leader. I just made him up. 
> 
> *Violence- gunplay, hand-to-hand, stabbing, mentions of blood (the usual)

The glass which Bucky held shattered in his grasp as he beheld the vaguely familiar women. His hazy eyes bled intense turmoil and misplaced nostalgia. But they steeled over with dread when he tore his focus away towards the crowd of people whose attentions were honed on him. He barely registered the sound of an uttered name escaping the redhead's lips as he began to flee the scene, but it wasn't his own. _James._ Natasha ripped off her heels and began to purse him, eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn tight in determination. She wouldn't let her target get away without a fight, and it seemed that seemed to be the same mentality of the mass of KGB agents that she attempted to maneuver through.

Two men seized each of Natasha's arms and yanked her back. Their grip tightened when they felt her struggle and begin thrashing, her biceps tensing up under their restricting hands. Natasha's attention was lost when the splintering sound of a stain glass window shattering filled her ears. The Winter Soldier had bashed it with his metal fist in order to escape. Her eyes widened at the sight of him looming above in the windowsill, wisps of hair falling over his own eyes that were fixed on her with cold confusion. It was only for a flicker of a moment before he extended his arm straight out holding a handgun and sniped the two agents currently restraining the women. When the guns averted from the redhead in his direction, Bucky instinctively jumped out the window which was a thirty foot drop. 

Natasha couldn't worry about the safety of his life when her own was once again put in danger. She wanted to figure out why Bucky had went to the KGB reunion if not to join arms with them. If he truly wanted to do so, he wouldn't have killed two of their agents. She especially didn't have time to consider the possibility that he too remembered her as he had with Steve when a women had gun pointed straight at her. Natasha kicked the weapon pointed at her out of the agent's hand, her leg sweeping effortlessly in the air causing the pistol to clatter to the floor. Before another agent could pounce on her, she executed a back handspring over the buffet table before effectively flipping it over as an impromptu shield against the bullets raining down. A man crawled into the line of fire where Natasha was crouched behind the table and managed to land a shot in her leg. She merely elbowed him so he flung backwards and knocked his head against the wall, causing an expensive painting to crash down on him. While Natasha wished to call upon Bruce so he could smash everyone in sight for her, she decided on a more reasonable plan. She scooped the dead agent and used his body as a shield instead. The bullets stopped suddenly to her great pleasure, allowing her to literally drop the dead weight in her arms. 

"One hundred and fifteen of the finest KGB operatives in this room and the best you could do was nick the woman's leg?" A familiar, resonant voice echoed throughout the ballroom once filled with the blaring patter of gunfire only seconds ago. The stout, aging men had an air of regality to him as he slowly made his way down the marble stairs, the heels of his leather shoes clacking with each careful step he took. It was Leonid Gretavsky, head of the KGB. "With all due respect, sir." Natasha stepped forward, chin raised defiantly. Her hair was disheveled and her dress was smeared with a mixture of the dead agent's and her own blood. "I am no ordinary women. You of all people should know that." A brief flicker of astonishment flashed on the man's face before being replaced with determined resentment. His bushy, graying eyebrows scrunched together, the action accentuating the wrinkles upon his forehead. His disdainful, beady eyes fixed on the redhead like the laser point of a sniper rifle. His hand waved at the mass of agents below and they recognized the action as the command to lower their weapons. All at once, the agents dropped their various guns and knifes to the floor and raised their fists in the air. 

"Prove it." 

Someone seized Natasha's wrist in a painful grip, but wasn't quick enough to grab the other before she managed to drive the heel of her palm into their face. She simply wiped the blood that oozed onto her from his nose (which she had effectively broken) onto the white dress shirt of another man before taking him out too. A women raised her fist in the air to strike Natasha before she grabbed it and twisted the agent's arm behind her back. The women cried out in pain before it was cut short when the Black Widow shoved her into an incoming group of more agents. She made the mistake of casting her eyes up to gauge Gretavsky's reaction to her work and an agent took used her loss of focus to grab her from behind. The man's muscular arms looped underneath hers and effectively restrained her upper body. Another agent took advantage of the unfortunate position as a chance to pounce. Natasha managed to bring her legs into the air and kick off the man's chest, using her momentum to flip over the head of the agent holding her, bringing him crashing down in the process. A quick sidelong glance and she could sense more approached from behind. Natasha decided to kick a knife lying on the floor into the air which she caught before effectively stabbing an agent square in the throat. 

"Enough!" Gretavsky ordered and his herd of agents reluctantly stood down. "I did you a favor by making it a fair fight. And what do you do? You steal another man's knife and kill him with it. That's against the rules." He casually plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of an innocent server boy trembling in his shoes and tipped the drink back. His eyes never left the Black Widow, his thick neck moving with each gulp he took. "I wouldn't be standing here today if I followed the rules, especially not yours." Natasha replied smoothly, but her eyes were filled with unabashed disdainfulness before he seized hold of her arm and wrenched her forward. "You talk yourself up so highly, yet it is your own _stupid_ mistakes that've brought you to where you stand." Gretasvky countered, his tone venomous as he watched a smirk play on the spy's face. 

"In a sea of your own men, I might add." 

Leonid huffed softly at her unrelenting confidence despite all odds. It was one of the Black Widow's traits they could never beat out of her. He returned her smirk with his own tainted version before grabbed her thigh and pressing his thumb down on the fresh bullet wound there. Natasha couldn't stop the painful cry being ripped from her throat in reaction before she slipped the dagger strapped to her other thigh and sunk the blade into his wrist. Now it was Gretavsky's turn to howl in agony as he pulled the blade out with much strain. He weakly lifted his bloodied hand in the air to stop an agent from intervening. 

"Would you like to know the first stupid mistake you made before attempting to infiltrate my party and then stabbing me?" Leonid turned to one of his men standing nearby and yanked his tie off so he could wrap it around his wound. "You opened the Blue Monday file. You're the only operative alive who had clearance to access it. Not to mention your little stunt in Kiev where you and your friends killed twenty three HYDRA agents. You think that wouldn't get back to us? You think the KGB and HYDRA don't keep tabs on all their information?" He scoffed before stalking towards the overturned buffet table and setting a chair back on its feet so he could sit down. "Considered there is only one test subject still active, that being your dear friend James who also paid us a visit tonight, we easily concluded what you were up to." Natasha's body coiled up at his words in the same manner when Loki spoke of the red in her ledger. "So, what do we do?" He asked, words muffled considering his mouth was full with a crème puff. "Well, you have to set a trap in order to catch a rat." Natasha's fists clenched at her sides as she imagined punching him so hard, the crumbs that littered his thick mustache would fall out. 

"You trust people too easily, Widow. That's your next stupid mistake." Gretavsky rose to his feet and casually waved his injured hand in the general direction of her friend. "You trusted Agent Dieslev, your supposed friend, yet he bestowed his allegiance to us." The KGB leader stood inches in front of Natasha, practically casting a shadow as he loomed over her." _Unlike you._ " He snarled, nostrils flaring and eyes searing with anger and disappointment. "The fact that you run around with _Captain America_ only shows how far you've fallen since your disassociation with the KGB." Decades ago, Natasha would recall doing just about anything in order to see that look leave his face. But she severed all ties and the strings that made her a puppet. Now she took great pride in the fact she managed to draw out such emotions from the usually stoic and unreadable man. In contrast, Fyodor couldn't contain the emotions that seemed to pour out from every orifice of his quivering body. _Fear, embarrassment, confusion, regret-_ They held no affect on the spy anymore, he was dead to her at that point. She planned to make good on that too once she was done with Gretavsky. 

"The fact that you let an idiot like Fyodor become a field agent shows how much the KGB has fallen since I left." Natasha declared, her cold eyes fixed only upon the traitor, singling him out as she spoke. "I remember saying that one day a boot will come crashing down upon the Black Widow." Gretavsky's voice rose and filled the room as he began to pace around it, hands braced behind his back. Natasha merely exhaled impatiently, rolling her eyes at the potentially drawn out monologue he was prone to spewing out. "No matter how much she scurries away," He stopped in his tracks and clapped one of his agent's shoulders with his uninjured hand. "She'll always find herself cornered." With a wave of his unoccupied hand, all the remaining agents raised their weapons again and trained them on Natasha. 

Before anyone could register the order and act upon it, the familiar sound of glass shattering entered their ears. Everyone whipped their heads up at the sound, looking to see shards of glass rain down on them from the ceiling. A man donned with wings busted through the paneled ceiling feet first and swooped towards them, stopping just above their heads. 

"How do you guys have time to come up with these dumbass speeches and plan out your attacks?" Sam landed on his feet and looked around the room with an incredulous look on his face. With everyone's attention focused away from her, Natasha's instincts kicked into high gear. She snatched a handgun off the floor and shot Gretasvky in the chest. Everyone else reacted with aiming their guns at the pair before Sam scooped up Natasha and flew away with her in his arms. Draped over his shoulder as they swiftly glided away, she took three shots before managing to shoot Fyodor right in the head. They had flown out of sight before she could have the satisfaction of watching the traitor bleed out. 

They stumbled to their feet on the rooftop of a nearby building. Sam's hold on her didn't relinquish once they landed, arms still braced tightly around her trembling frame. The shock of it all took its toll on Natasha and gained her full attention now that no one was attempting to kill her. She allowed herself to slump in her friend's arms for a moment as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. "You're a lot less heavier than Rogers." Sam commented, his eyes darting to Steve who was watching them in the shadows unbeknownst to Natasha who was still reeling from everything that had occurred. "I should hope so." The redhead chuckled softly, glad to hear anything other than death threats. "And you smell better too." He breathed out in relief and inhaled the faint scent of her perfume that still lingered. The awkwardness of being hugged longer than necessary and Steve's name being spoken brought a pang of fear and guilt to Natasha who began to squirm away. "You can let go of me now, Sam." She held his shoulders and pulled him off, only to find his brown eyes fixed upon her begin to glaze over with tears. 

"I thought I was gonna find you dead, dammit. So cut me some slack." Sam snapped at her, immediately regretting his sharp words when he felt Natasha's body go rigid in his arms. She pried herself away out of spite, stumbling backwards and hitting her back against a solid surface. She turned around to find Steve glaring down at her. The cool breeze that swept through the night was unwavering against the soldier who seemed to be more of a sculpture than a person. But the contrast of a kindling fury and desperation in his eyes indicated he wasn't stone cold. They made Natasha's own eyes widen and heart stammer in her chest at the sight. In that moment, she didn't know whether or not they'd ever get through that night. Even as the blaring sirens of ambulances circling around the museum filled their ears, Steve and Natasha's concentrations were latched onto each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have the next chapter planned out and it will include some very much needed Steve/Natasha moments considering all the angst and action I've been writing instead. 
> 
> I don't usually write actions scenes, so I apologize if none of the fight sequences were easy to follow. Also, after reading back, I realized this chapter is super wordy. So sorry about that also. (I apologize way too much) 
> 
> Thanks for all your support and sticking around to read this crazy story!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all come to terms with what happened at the museum. Natasha deals with the trauma and having to face her friends whom she lied to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warnings  
> Blood- mentions of Natasha's gun wound bleeding  
> Trauma- mentions of shock and mental trauma  
> Sexual Content- some horny creep starts looking at Natasha for five seconds of the story, and some mild stuff between Steve and Natasha towards the end

"I had things under control." Natasha disputed, her words matching the sharpness of her eyes. She stood defensively, holding her own ground against Steve and Sam's disbelieving looks. She didn't regret what she did, but only wished it wouldn't have hurt their trust in her in the process. "That's what you call under control?!" Steve hollered, his voice carrying over the sound of his heart pounding violently in his ears. The blood rushed to his face, causing it to redden with anger. But his tight frown went slack, mouth parting open when he noticed the blood caked on her dress. All the color from his face dissolved into a clammy paleness at the sight. " _Dammit, she's bleeding too._ " Steve muttered under his breath, forcing himself to turn away from her lest he grow more upset. Natasha decided to wait out the storm and trudged towards the edge of the building so she could get a view of all the chaos. The sharp and shallow breaths Steve took, the scuffling of tin against the cement as Sam kicked a soda can, the subtle whistling of a breeze that rolled through the smoky night- even the continuous howl of ambulance and police sirens all turned numb in her ears.

All Natasha could think about as her eyes unfocused she saw was a blur of lights and people crowding down below, was how close she was to bringing in Bucky. How close she was to bringing things back to normal. She tried to recalculate every move she made to see if it would yield a different outcome. It always ended the same. But It kept her mind from wondering what was going on in her friend's minds. Then she didn't have to guess once they started shooting off their thoughts one after another-

_Do all of your dates end up with massive shootings?_

_Why didn't you just tell us what you were doing? We could've been your backup._

_How could you think going in alone was even a remotely good idea?_

_You could've gotten yourself killed. You do realize your actions don't just affect you anymore, right? We're a team now, Natasha._

_"Natasha!"_

"I saw Bucky." Natasha blurted out, she not even processing the way her trembling lips seemed to move on their own accord. They fell silent at her words, solemn eyes taking in the image of the spy standing stock still, leaning forward against the wall and gazing down at the destruction she unintentionally caused. Red locks of hair brushed off her slumped shoulders by the wind, stocking clad feet changing position as she nervously shifted her weight from one side to the other, and bloodstained fingers clenching tightly to the ledge as furious tears rolled down her colorless cheeks. Although at that point Steve wasn't sure what the spy said to be true, he knew she couldn't have been faking then. He took a tentative step closer to where she stood in a rigid stance, her bleary eyes seemingly incapable of being torn away from the wrecked museum.

"Nata-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Natasha croaked, her throat was raw and tightening up from attempting to repress more tears. For some reason, as she stood with her heels missing and stockings torn, fingers moving to swipe away the hair that blew in her face, and her pouting lips which she tried to will the tremors away, she seemed indescribably vulnerable. She glanced over to Steve, hoping to sense some understanding in features, but all she found were furrowed brows that settled deep over his stormy eyes and fingers fidgeting at his sides. As if he was contemplating whether or not to trust himself, Steve suddenly closed the little distance between he and Natasha and captured her chin. She resented the feeling of being chastised, especially by her own partners when she did what was necessary. But she would allow them to let it out so they could move on. They needed her above all, and their respect for her would never waver. But she knew it wasn't wise to withhold the truth when they were already walking on a fine line.

"This isn't over." Steve vowed, although his anger ebbed the more he looked upon Natasha, her face hidden in the shadows of the night. His face went lax and fingers loosened their grip on her chin, the tear stained skin he found to be softest to touch. He exhaled deeply, allowing himself a moment to drink in the image of Natasha before turning away towards the stairs. Sam turned to Natasha and gave a tight smile before brushing his knuckles against her damp cheeks in a reassuring manner. She wiped the residue of tears away with the back of her hand and gave a firm nod of thanks before following him and the Captain down the stairs.

It seemed like an infinite number of flights that Natasha had to stagger her way down. After the twelfth set of stairs, the once numb pain in her leg from the bullet wound became enflamed. She hissed under her breath when it grew impossible to ignore. Steve's senses heightened at the sound, his head whipping to the source where he found Natasha prodding at the wound which leaked a fresh stream of blood down her leg. He immediately tugged his jacket off and moved to secure the fabric around her thigh in order to restrict the blood flow. He then pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and brushed it up her leg to wipe away the blood that stained her flesh. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, gauging her reaction to see if she was still hurting. Natasha tried not to think about how much she appreciated their current position- _Steve on his knees before her, gently cupping her thigh in his supportive hand._ A shiver rolled through her body at the thought.

"Are you okay? You cold or something?" Sam's voice cut through the image that was a gracious distraction from what had previously occupied her mind. "She could still be in shock." Sam added, turning to the Captain for his opinion. Steve rose from his feet, crumpling his bloodied handkerchief back into his pocket as Sam shrugged off his hoodie for Natasha. She merely waved it off, along with any other advances to assist her. She had survived through much worse without the help of two heartwarmingly, overbearing friends to get her through it. They all made it down to the lobby of the building and onto the street, their senses immediately attacked by the presence of the city. Sam thought it odd how peaceful the world seemed from on the rooftop in contrast to weaving their way through the night crowds towards the tramways.

They waited on the platform along with everyone else, Natasha ducking her head lest any of the civilians surrounding her turned out to be KGB agents that got away. Her body tensed up at the sensation of being crowd in by a large mass of people, chest tightening as her breathing turned shallow. Steve glanced down at her, recognizing the signs of shock that took over her body. He turned to Sam who somehow managed to strike up a conversation in Japanese with the women standing next to him. Steve caught fragments of the words, most of his knowledge of the Japanese language coming from his days at war. From what he could tell, Sam was flirting up a storm. Some of the soldier's friends would try and flirt with the local women there, so this wasn't new territory. Steve nudged his friend's shoulder once, and again in a rougher manner when he didn't respond. Sam jerked his head towards him, eyes bulging at him incredulously. The Captain nudged his head towards Natasha while his hand waved for the hoodie to be handed over. The women watched impatiently as the whole thing went down, them arguing with just their eyes before Sam finally gave in.

Before Steve could turn back to Natasha and give her the hoodie, she was already boarding the cabin along with everyone else. He rushed inside, accidentally dropping the hoodie along the way before the doors slid shut with Sam and his new friend in tow. All the seats were taken, the people around were asked to evacuate the premise of the crime scene all crowded into the trains. His eyes darted around the cabin and found Natasha clutching to a pole for support in the corner, her hunched back turned away from everyone. Steve wanted to ask one of the sitting passengers if Natasha could have their seat, but didn't know enough German to get by. Plus, if the passengers there were half as rude as the ones he encountered in New York, they'd probably say no anyways.

"Natasha." Steve conveyed in a small and careful voice, hoping not to startle her. But the train jerked and began to move, causing the soldier to stumble onto her instead before he could grab the yellow railing to stop himself. Natasha whipped her head back, looking over her shoulder to see it was only Steve and not someone trying to hurt her. Men in suits with guns and knifes directed at her still flashed in her mind. She didn't want to look at him, she was having troubles looking out the window without seeing her own distorted reflection in the glass. Steve tried to spot Sam in the mix of people for support, but was met with the lustful eyes of a man leering at Natasha in her tattered golden dress. The Captain gritted his teeth at the sight, fingers curling into fists at his sides like he was ready to attack. He wouldn't allow for a man to treat someone as such, especially not Natasha after all she had been through. The stranger's grease stained fingers crept down to his crotch and began to palm himself through the fabric of his worn out jeans. But when the man's eyes tore away momentarily from the redhead, he found the sturdy blond standing next to her was glaring at him and decided to avert his eyes.

Steve huffed in frustration before turning back to Natasha, wrapping one arm around her from behind while the other had a firm grip to the railing. She squirmed at first, but when she cocked her head up to look at him, the amount of concern and consideration that lined his features allowed her to ease into him. She was hesitant to think this was over and forgotten, but no one seemed to want to dwell on it at that moment. Whenever the train would come to an abrupt stop, she would stay firmly rooted in his arms. Steve buried his head into the crook of her neck and pressed her closer to him as he felt a shiver roll through her body again. When Natasha's shaky fingers moved to comb her locks of hair back, he pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck before asking her to tell him what happened. She forced herself to turn around in his arms, unsure eyes darting about his face. She was tense and paranoid, but also comforted and at ease. It was like sitting in a pool of warm water and waiting for it to boil you alive. Steve's request for Natasha to tell the story woke her from her haze. Now facing him, it was difficult to feign indifference about the whole matter. The train jerked once more and Natasha grappled onto Steve's shoulders to stay balanced, his unoccupied hand finding her waist and supporting her in firm hold. At that point, she didn't care what the people surrounding her were doing or thinking.

With a reassuring nod from Steve, Natasha exhaled, allowing her body to deflate and lose it's tension before proceeding to tell her story. Her fingers loosened their hold on his shoulders and moved to idly sift through the trimmed locks of hair at the base of his neck. She whispered into his ear all that had transpired that night- how Fyodor approached her, how Bucky saved her life before fleeing, and how she had to fight her way through a sea of KGB agents. Whenever the story got to an intense part, Steve could feel her arms subtly tighten around him and her breath become shallow and shaky as it fanned against his ear. Once they got to the hotel, she would need to be treated for shock and the bullet wound in her leg. All the while, Steve held fast to her as the remaining passengers filtered out and only a few remained. His eyes flitted towards the doors where he watched Sam wink at him and wave before disappearing with the women he was chatting with in the station. Steve's eyes widened with incredulity for a moment before returning his attentions back to Natasha who was telling her story. He patiently listened and as it turned more gruesome, he felt guilty for the way he initially reacted. She pulled back slightly when her story was done, wide eyes locked on him before they fluttered shut as Steve pressed a kiss to her flushed cheek.

"You don't have to coddle me, Rogers." Natasha murmured, her hands moving to press against his chest as a barrier so he couldn't get any closer. He could feel them quivering before her fingers gripped tightly to the fabric of his shirt when the train jerked again. "I know, but just let me every once in a while." Steve pulled her even closer, soft eyes roving over her solemn face to observe for any signs of discomfort. He cradled her face in his hand, the other raking through her soft locks of hair as he pulled her in for a kiss. He groaned when her lips soon melted against his, Natasha tilting her head up for a better angle. She pulled back until their lips broke apart and she could inhale a soft breath. Steve took advantage of her lips parted open to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing inside the warmth of her mouth. A quiet moan escaped Natasha before it tapered off when she forced herself to separate, their lips making a soft smacking sound as she pulled away. She blinked amusedly at the soldier whom she remembered to be a sub-par kisser the last time checked. Natasha's fingers which trembled no longer crept up her full lips to brush Steve's saliva off before sucking on that finger. The scenery outside the window which Natasha stood by blurred and all he could concentrate on was her. How her wide eyes gleamed with a deceivingly innocent mischief which never faltered as she gazed at him. Steve's fingers tightened on Natasha's waist to pull her in for another kiss, but her firm grip on his shoulders kept him at bay again.

 

_"This isn't over."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made you guys wait long enough for them to finally kiss, huh? Hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> I personally don't think it's OOC that Natasha was all shaken up and crying considering she was bombarded by a mass of KGB agents who wanted her dead, was shot in the leg, betrayed by her long time friend Fyodor, reunited with Gretavsky who was one of her main handlers when she was training in the KGB who was an evil asshole and still is, and saw Bucky before he fled and is still reeling from that. So, sorry if anyone disagrees. 
> 
> The next chapter will probably be more Steve/Natasha hurt/comfort stuff, because it is in fact not over. 
> 
> Also, certain things will be happening in the story and Sam will become more potent part in the story since I feel bad about how little spotlight he gets. 
> 
> Thanks for all you guys support and hope to update soon!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Steve retreat to a hotel for the night and work things out in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd make things up to you guys with a smutty/semi-fluffy chapter since I haven't updated in practically twelve years. Sorry about that, I'm just preparing for a trip and got busy. 
> 
> *Sexual Content- pretty self explanatory  
> Gore- Natasha's gun wound is referenced a lot in this chapter, nothing too graphic 
> 
> Sorry as always for any typos.

"How's your leg?" Steve asked Natasha when she met back up with him in the lobby after getting them a hotel room. He noticed it would stiffen up as she walked with a slight limp towards him, he standing up from the plush armchair to steady her arm. She gave him a discouraging nod and his supportive hold on her relinquished at her request. He respected Natasha's boundaries even when her stubbornness sometimes did more damage than good. Though he couldn't blame her, he was the same way-

While pressing the up arrow button for the elevator, Steve's mind flashed back to a memory of Bucky. The day his mother died, his friend kept pushing him to move in, but Steve wanted to prove that he could live on his own. That he didn't need Bucky to save him from alleyway bullies or barely functioning stoves. Now the alleyway bullies were government organizations and his biggest problem wasn't how to cook a pot of soup anymore all by himself. The memory came to him once before on the bridge, before Sam convinced him that the Winter Soldier needed to be stopped. Natasha watched from her peripheral vision as Steve's body tensed and features tightened in turmoil in reaction to some thought. Her fingers wrapped around his bicep and gave his arm a gentle tug when the elevator doors opened for them. This elevator played music, and it was the only noise between the pair who stood awkwardly with another person. The stranger tried not to gawk at the disheveled appearance of the redhead instead looking up at the ceiling tiles until it was their floor and disappeared. Steve was about to step forward when he noticed Natasha's eyebrows furrow as she gripped tightly to the railing so her body wouldn't sway- but the dinging sound followed by the mechanical creaking of the door sliding open interrupted his actions. They walked down the seemingly infinite hallways to their room in silence.

"One bed, huh?" Steve nudged Natasha in the side and immediately regretted it when he heard the soft hiss of pain that followed. She waved the pain off and managed her way to the bathroom. "It's not like you sleep in beds anyways. It's cheaper this way." She commented considering he would sleep on the floor most nights. She absentmindedly splashed cold water on her face and dabbed it away with a hand towel. When silence fell between them, Natasha set down the towel and looked at Steve's solemn expression in the mirror. "You know why I do- But I don't think I can. _Not tonight._ " The soldier's words were vague and choppy as if he were uncertain himself, but she understood exactly what he meant. "But forget about me, how do you feel?" He continued, drawing attention away from himself as always. Natasha turned around and gave the most convincing smile she could muster. "I've never been better, Steve." She conveyed in a even voice, trying to smooth out the tremors that lined her words like tuning a radio. They both tried not to read too much into her words as silence settled once more. But Natasha's fingers tightening on the ledge of the marble countertop she leaned against when Steve began to stalk towards her, removing the distance between them in a few strides.

Steve looked as though he was about to say something, but his lips tightened into a frown as he gazed upon Natasha. She didn't have much time to dwell on how tall the Captain was to the point she had to crane her neck just to meet his eyes when he suddenly ripped the thin fabric of her already tattered dress. She instinctively grabbed his hand to pull him away, her anxiety and confusion outweighing the slow burning heat that was kindling in her. The swift action of tearing the slit of her dress caused a fizzling spark to catch flame; she pulled him away so he couldn't realize this. It turned out he only tore the fabric away for better access to the examine her wound. But his hand on her leg seemed more intimate than clinical- Fingers cupping her thigh as he did on the stairs, thumb brushing against the marred flesh. Natasha went into the public restroom at the tram station and dug the bullet out herself much to the dismay of those around her. She then proceeded to ask the women standing next to her for the dental floss she had in hand, taking a long strand and using it to stitch herself up. Although it seemed she was recovering well as he far as he could tell, she couldn't bite back the sharp intake of breath when he raised her leg higher and it strained her.

"Sit on the counter for me?" Steve patted the surface and waited patiently for her to comply. Natasha shot him an exasperated look, eyebrows deepening in frustration. He was coddling her again and she already had her share of it. "Steve, I really don't need this. I patched myself up already, so you don't have to worry for once in your life." Her snappy remarked didn't sit well with Steve, his frustration over her held good intentions. "Natasha, sit on the counter. I can see now that I have to keep a closer watch on you. You've proven to me that you're not responsible enough to take care of yourself-" "How the hell do you think I've lasted so long?" The spy hissed through clenched teeth, utterly offended by the things the Captain was insinuating. She was a viable member of the team, not a liability dammit. "You save my life a couple of times and you think you can call the shots in _my_ life?" The statement caused a frustrated huff to escape her before she continued. "I've survived just fine before you, and will do so once you move on, Steve." For a moment, Natasha felt a tinge of regret roll through her when she saw his frown deepen and eyes grow hazy. He didn't want to analyze what she meant by _once you move on_. But she spoke the truth, which was all she had to effectively steel any emotions. This tactic soon changed when Steve kissed the side of her chin that rose up defiantly at him. He murmured his words of understanding against her flushed skin before pressing his lips against her once more.

"I'm not trying to control you, Natasha. I'm trying to protect you. Sometimes, getting help from others benefits them more than you. I know you don't need this- If it were just you, you'd probably order a bottle of vodka and sleep the night off." Steve couldn't help the sense of pride and relief that flowed through him when he heard Natasha chuckle softly under her breath. His shoulders relaxed as the air of tension dissipated. "I just don't know what to think anymore- I need to know where your allegiance lies." He trailed off for a bit, sucking in a deep breath and hesitating to ask a question he wasn't sure he wanted an answer to. "Do you still want to help us after what happened tonight?" Steve managed to throw off the spy who appeared to expect everything that came her way. But her next move took him by surprise as well- Natasha bit down hard on her lip as she attempted to hoist herself up, the pain becoming enflamed in her leg once more from the action. The Captain ended up intervening, grabbing her hips and positioning her to sit on the countertop. Now the small smile that slipped upon her face was genuine and he knew that was the closest answer he was going to get to his question.

Natasha shuddered at the contrast of the cool marble surface in which she sat that numbed the bottom of her thighs and the palms of her hands she leaned back on, and the warmth building up between her legs. She couldn't help but appreciate the balance of tenderness and assertiveness in which he handled her with- in ways no man took the time to do with her before. When she said it wasn't over after they kissed on the train, it was in fact a promise she desired to keep. But remembering all that happened that night and the fact that engaging any further would alter their relationship, she couldn't stop herself from feeling conflicted. But the little touches here and there- _the tearing of her dress, the kiss on her chin, his hand on her thigh, his face so close their eyelashes touched_ \- that's what got to her. The slow build up of desire smothered her worries. The first thing Steve noticed was how her legs tightened together to conceal the evidence of her arousal. His eyes flickered up to see hers refusing to meet his and finally managed to piece together what was wrong.

"It's okay to feel this way, Natasha. We can't constantly be in mission mode, you know." Steve leaned in so she was forced to look at him, brushing his nose against hers softly. Her eyes blinked uncertainly at him, chest moving in shallow manner as her heart pounded painfully within her. "That's means a lot coming from you- Sam told me you read the case files over and over again when you couldn't sleep." When Steve's hand tentatively moved to cradle her neck and massage the tension away as he did before she left that night, she took caution to the wind. Natasha's warm lips crashed against Steve's firm ones, pulling him closer till his chest molded against hers. He opened her legs and hoisted them around his hips, giving an experimental thrust to see how she would react. Judging by the muffled whine that slipped past Natasha's occupied lips at the feel of him pressed hard against her slick warmth, he was doing alright. Her own hips bucked up in a desperate effort to gain more friction where she needed it most, the lacy barrier of her underwear and the worn fabric of Steve's jeans were the only obstacles in her way. Burying her fingers through his trimmed, golden hair and giving it a soft tug caused Steve to retract his lips from hers. He could sense her frantic movements as she failed to unzip her dress and decided to step in.

"Natasha, let me help. _Remember?_ " Steve extended his hand out for her to use as support as she slipped down from the counter and onto wobbly feet. He turned Natasha around so he could undress her properly, tugging the zipper down carefully till the dress practically peeled off her. Her fingers clenched at the bunched up fabric she managed to grab before it pooled to the floor. Steve's lips descended onto her slender neck, suckling and sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh which would surely bruise from his attentions. Her body went lax as his supportive arms enveloped around her much like their position on the tram. The dress which Natasha held onto dropped from her hands to the tile floor when Steve's hands skimmed up to her breasts. Her own hands moved to wrap around his neck from behind as he kneaded them and brushed the calloused pad of his thumb against her taut nipples. The stuttering breath she released turned into a full on moan coming from her throat when Steve slid one hand past her underwear and between her thighs to teasingly brush against her slick folds. He stroked her clit a couple of times to test her sensitivity. His eyes flickering to the reflection of their bodies tangled together, Natasha's biting down and sucking on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out from the restrained pleasure.

"Steve, you said you'd take care of me, not torture me. _I-_ " Natasha's prodding words were cut off when Steve pressed a finger inside her without warning. Which was good, because she didn't know how much more teasing she could take from him. Steve groaned and rutted his straining erection against Natasha's backside, relishing in the way the redhead in his arms jolted along with the sensation of a second finger being added, coaxing her to her first orgasm. His name slurred out incoherently from her full lips parted open into a perfect circle when he pumped his fingers in a quick rhythm. Steve couldn't resist guiding her head that fell back against his shoulder upwards so their lips aligned for another passionate kiss. This one seemed more messy and desperate as Steve sunk his teeth into her bottom lip swollen and red from being sucked on, he practically devouring her soul.

All the while, his diligent fingers massaged Natasha's core, reveling in the way she bucked her hips into his hand in order to draw him deeper inside her. Her warm breath turned into shallow pants that fanned against Steve's neck when she heard the numbing sound of her heart beating in her ears and the intense heat course through her body, sending tingling sensations everywhere. When the Captain slightly curled his fingers inside her and rubbed hard against her clit, Natasha didn't have it in her to restrain the pleasurable scream that was ripped from her raw throat. She already felt herself tilting to the edge; her vision blurred from tears that threatened to spill down her heated cheeks. But the added sensation of Steve's lips tracing the curve of her neck and shoulder was the breaking point. He whispered words of encouragement against her skin as she spiraled out of control, her head dizzy from pleasure as her body tensed up in his arms as she came.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" Natasha panted out, waiting until the aftershocks of her orgasm wore off before slowly turning back to Steve, her bleary eyes blinking at him. " _Well,_ " The soldier trailed off, cheeks growing red as he tried to find the right words. "If it's true that SHIELD reads everyone's internet history, then they're in for a real surprise." He gently tugged her arms folded over her breasts and guided her to the only bed in the room before she could ask anymore questions on the matter. He chuckled to himself, remembering her mediocre excuse as to why she reserved a room with one bed. During missions, they would rotate where each of them got to sleep. The system went that one person slept in the bed, another on the couch, and the last person took the floor. But even when Natasha assured her teammates that she was fine sleeping on the ground, they would have none of that. Even when Sam would groan in the middle of the night and walk around like a pregnant person, his internal whining ceased when he got a glance at Natasha sleeping peacefully, curled up in the mattress with her limbs tangled in the sheets. If anyone deserved and needed peaceful sleep the most, _it was her_.

So when Natasha got under the plush covers and folded them back for Steve to join her, he couldn't help but feel like he was experiencing some exclusive event. He crawled underneath with her and laid there for a moment, trying to calm his still beating heart. He tilted his head which sunk into the pillow in her direction, his eyes roving over the parts her body not hidden by the sheets. Steve leaned over to press a kiss upon the wound on her shoulder which Bucky gave, his lips trailing a delicate path against her skin. Natasha mewled softly when he bit down and suckled on the pulse point of her neck, her fingers instinctively raking through his hair to keep him there. Steve chuckled, the sound reverberating against her bruised flesh before he trailed his mouth up to nibble on her earlobe and kiss the defined lines of her jaw. He couldn't help but pull away for a moment to take in the image of her drenched in the dim light of a desk lamp in the corner of the room. They had gotten the desperate need of satiety out of the way, now he wanted to do things right. Steve doubted anyone had ever taken the time with Natasha. Overwhelmed by the presence of her and just wanting to jump her bones was more likely. He needed her trust, her wisdom and calming presence, her thoughts and feelings, and yes, her body- Every essence of Natasha.

"This is great and all, Steve." Natasha tugged on his fluffed out hair once more to break their kiss. Steve's soft eyes roved her with concern, afraid he overstepped his boundaries or something. The hand that crept up Natasha's thigh and skimmed over her bullet wound retracted immediately as he waited patiently for her to speak. "But it won't solve our problems, it's just a distraction." Her head tilted to the side, avoiding his concentrated gaze that became too much alongside her fears and worries. He drew his hand from under the covers to tilt her head back so she would look at him once more. "It may feel nice in the moment, but when it's over, the world will be waiting to tear us up." He observed Natasha's eyes grow dark and felt her jaw clench under his hand. Steve couldn't get over how she referred to what they just did as 'it' instead of a proper label. Fucking seemed too brutal, but it surely wasn't lovemaking. Or was it? He decided to let it go, knowing that attempting to label whatever they had together was a futile effort. Steve didn't know what it was that they had, other than one another when it boiled down to it.

"I'm just tired, that's all." Natasha turned to him after slapping a few painkillers into her mouth and swallowing them down hard. "That's surely understandable after everything that happened tonight." Steve's cheeks ruddied as he began to helplessly correct his statement. "I- I meant everything. Not what just happened between us- _which was great by the way._ " His body deflated as he exhaled deeply before glancing back up at the amused redhead sitting next to him. "I just meant that you've had a long night." Steve felt his eyes sting with salty tears that never formed as his hand rested once more on the gash on her thigh. "And I'm sorry it was you that to live through it." Throwing caution to the wind, he flung himself into Natasha's arms, burying his head into the crook of her neck. "It's not your fault, Steve." Natasha rubbed his broad shoulders to ease the tension before retracting. "Honestly, I don't know how many times I have to tell you that." She crooned before pressing one last kiss to his lips. He gave her a crooked smile before leaving to take a cold shower, turning off the desk lamp along the way. He wished to have made love to her, or whatever term people use now a days, but knew she needed rest. As cold water numbed his naked form, Steve clung to the words she uttered- promised to him. _'This isn't over.'_ While his patience wore thin and hardships wedged between them, he really hoped whatever he had with Natasha wouldn't be over anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be traveling for a bit as I mentioned earlier, so I don't know how frequent the chapter updates will be.
> 
> I was unsure of Steve's portrayal because I didn't want him to be too rough because his partner did just get shot in the leg, but I didn't want him to be too gentle and coddling because his partner is in fact Natasha fucking Romanov. I don't know, some people like to think of Steve as a really gentle ultra-virgin, and some like to think he fucks as rough as he fights— So I tried my best to strike a balance. 
> 
> If it wasn't too obvious, they'll probably be more smut in the next chapter...So, just a warning because I suck like that. 
> 
> Thanks for everyone's patience and support!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Natasha continue what they started last night and are visited by a surprise guest who gives them some questionable news. A new character is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since no one told me the smut in the last chapter was atrocious, I'm just going to assume it was alright for you all. Therefore, I give you some more. But don't expect them to be hooking up in every chapter now. ;)
> 
> *Sexual Content- explicit material, just as bad as the last chapter, so nothing too crazy 
> 
> Typos, as always. Sorry if there are any.

Natasha squinted her tired eyes at the sight of Steve curled up next to her, already hard and pressed against her. She didn't imagine Captain America to be much of a cuddler, much less herself, but she found the shared body heat that warmed her bare skin under the covers enjoyable. When she shifted around in his arms that practically consumed her small frame, his eyes flashed open instinctively before softening at the sight of her. The palm of Steve's hand tread lightly down the smooth curves of her back in a soothing manner that made her eyelids flutter shut. Natasha buried her head into the crevice of his shoulder, pressing languid kisses against his neck as he had done to her the night before. Her hand skimmed against his sculpted physique, fingers brushing against his abdomen which tightened in anticipation. Without warning, her kiss added teeth which grazed against Steve's neck, her warm breath fanning against his skin. His muffled whimper turned into a relieved groan when Natasha took him hard in hand and stroked it to life. His breath caught in his throat at not only the feel of his throbbing cock being palmed, but the genuine, teeth-baring grin Natasha wore at the sight of him unraveling before her.

"Someone's ambitious." Steve drawled before leaning forward to kiss her lips curled into that grin, finding it even more satisfying to taste. He found Natasha leaning into it as she strewn herself against his chest and loomed over, her disheveled tresses tickling his skin. Her uninjured leg hooked around his sides so she deftly shifted on top, rolling her hips so her slick entrance pressed against his thigh. "You seem surprised, Captain." Natasha lofted an eyebrow at him, her smooth voice sending jolts of pleasure to his already hardened cock. Steve bucked up in reaction, warm hands grasping at her hips as he surged upwards. Now that he was at eye level with her, he noticed how her full lips trembled to contain another smile, how her own eyes gleamed in ways he never thought he could get her to do, and her nostrils flared with every short breath she took. His fingers sifted through Natasha's locks of hair to guide her in for another kiss, his hips bucking up against her when her teeth sunk into his bottom lip and tugged gently. His lips moved down her throat which tightened up under his attention and onto her breasts, humming against them about how he could get used to her calling him Captain in bed.

Before Natasha could come up with a response, her words faltered into a surprised cry when Steve began to suckle on one of her breasts, teasingly flicking his tongue against her nipple. A hand reached to cup her other in hand, rotating positions until she was tugging at his hair to keep him there. He pulled away, his blue eyes gazing up at Natasha with a wicked gleam she would never think to characterize Captain America with. She knew his curious lips were traveling down the flat surface of her stomach and onwards, but she wouldn't allow herself to sit back while he had all the fun. She wanted to take matters into her own hands, literally. Natasha grabbed Steve's cock and lifted herself onto her haunches so she could sink down on him in one swift motion. Her slick warmth enveloping around him caused the super soldier to let out a prolonged groan of relief, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. She could feel his body go rigid underneath her, his throat closing up and causing his chest to heave.

"Relax, Steve." Natasha drawled, her honeyed words that managed to settle Steve's nerves in many occasions prior had the same affect as she lightly shoved at his chest so he laid down. She lifted herself up until just the head of his cock breached her before his hands pulled her back down on him. Her hands skimmed up her stomach and claimed her breasts, kneading and pinching at her firm nipples as she rocked in the Captain's lap. Her eyes momentarily flickered to her disposable phone on the nightstand, not sure if she heard it vibrating over the sounds coming out of Steve's mouth. His hips snapping upwards, driving his cock into her so it hit her core just right gained her attention again along with her eyes squeezing shut and lips parting open to release a loud cry. They gained a steady rhythm that was sure to bring them over the edge if they kept it up. Steve grabbed Natasha's hands now braced against his chest for leverage and slung them around his neck as he sat up to meet her once more. He captured her lips to silence the slur of whimpers and moans that escaped her. Natasha's hips swiveled as she grasped at the soldier's strong thighs for support, the action causing his cock to fill her up at a new angle and stroke her sensitive spot. She took advantage of this new information and continued to move her hips as such, grinding down and gyrating, until he was writhing and cursing beneath her.

"Come with me, Natasha. _Please_ \- Tasha." Steve's voice stuttered, barely managing to utter the plea as his body tensed up. Even with his forehead pressed against hers, his eyesight grew bleary from his oncoming orgasm, but he could still make out that Natasha shook her head softly in agreement. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and cried out against her skin, his arms pulling her impossibly close against his uneven chest as they both spiraled out of control together. Natasha's thrusts lost their finesse as the pleasurable burn seared her brain and clouded her senses. She let out a coarse cry which ripped from her raw throat, trimmed fingernails dragged against Steve's hunched forward back, causing his skin to redden from the action. They stayed tangled in one another's arms for sometime, sweat mingling with limbs strewn together. Their chests pressed up together heaved as they tried to regain their breathing, Steve's fingers idly tangling themselves into Natasha's red locks. When a persistent pounding on their door sounded out of nowhere, their senses heightened and they removed themselves from each other in a flurry.

"Open the damn door, you two!" A familiar voice muffled by the door filtered into the room and got their attentions. Natasha moved to go answer it, but Steve held out his hand to stop her, wrapping a sheet around his hips to cover up. He swung the door open and found Director Fury fuming on the other side, his hands on his hips in their usual authoritative manner. "Without going into detail-" Fury's sharp voice cut into them as his finger raised in the air. "Because I caught at least the last minute of it while waiting for you to open the door in the first place- Tell me why the hell none of you guys thought it wouldn't be a good idea to contact me after what happened." The Director breezed past Steve and into the room, an exhausted huff escaping him as he sunk into a nearby armchair. "I'm waiting." He looked up after furiously rubbing at his temples to glance at his top agent swaddled in a mess of sheets. "Agent Romanov, do you have anything to add?" She nodded and looked over at her phone to see three missed calls from Fury that all transpired while her and Steve were...preoccupied.

"Where's Wilson at in all of this?" Fury inquired, not even wanting to entertain the thought that Sam had joined the pair in their activities. "He's actually with someone, that he met at the tram station." Steve filled him in, one hand gripping the sheets in place while his other awkwardly ruffled his fluffed out hair. A frustrated chuckle that made Fury's shoulders bounce and frown morph into a mock grin caused Natasha to roll her eyes- She predicted his reaction and knew it wouldn't be pretty. "So, I'm out of the picture for a little while and Cap's calling the orders- And what do you people do? Sleeping around like a goddamn alien attack is gonna blow the world up tomorrow or something!" Natasha decided to cut in before he could go any further. "You said you were going into Deep Shadow Mode, that you wanted to make sure everyone believed you were dead. Of course we moved on without you." She spoke frankly, her demeanor carrying much authority despite being covered in sheets to hide her nakedness.

"I'm really not the kind to wait on orders, sir. Especially when people's lives are at stake." When Fury still seemed on the fence about it all, the Captain continued. "Look, Nick. We're all responsible adults here and there's no need to beat around the bush about what we've done. But the mission-" Steve swallowed hard, choking on the words before correcting himself. " _Bucky_ , is our top priority. And I'm sure Natasha will fill you in on what happened last night." They both looked expectantly at the agent who held their stares in silence. She was right about what she said that night, sex was just a distraction and once they finished having their fun, the hard reality would hit them again. She became distressed as the memories of Bucky's piercing eyes fixed on her before he plummeted out the shattered window, the snarling words that spewed from Gretavsky, and the guilt ridden expression that lined Fyodor's face before she lodged a bullet through it. Now that Fury was back, she remembered the feeling of betrayal when she saw him alive in the hospital bed, how she was compromised by his death, only to find it was a hoax to save his ass.

"Why did you really come back, Nick?" Natasha rose from the bed, wrapping the sheets around her as one might with a towel before stalking towards the director. "You're not one for check-up appointments, so why and _how_ did you find us?" Fury couldn't stop the shudder that rolled through his body at her cold and unfeeling words. He'd seen her in action on many occasions when she interrogated criminals, but there was something that struck a chord inside him to be on the receiving end. Steve left into the bathroom to change and also to escape the redhead's wrath. Nick took the momentary distraction to collect himself, he had to be in control again. "You think a shoot up involving the KGB's most prestigious agents and an ex-SHIELD convict wouldn't get my attention? Not to mention your little friend Barnes who seems to be causing more damage than he's worth." Now it was Natasha's turn to cringe at the coarse words being thrown at her, silently grateful that Steve hadn't heard the comment about Bucky. "Did you really think I would abandon you?" The Director's voice softened, speaking in a fatherly manner that always made her crack. But she wouldn't allow herself to fall apart at his knees every time he decided he needed to use her again.

Once again, a knocking on the door interrupted the moment.

"Hey guys, it's-" Fury took the liberty of rising from his chair to get the door. Sam jolted at the sight of the Director standing before him, his scrutinizing eye falling upon him and onto the women at his side. "Good, you're late. Come inside, leave the girl." Fury ordered as he turned back into the room and claimed his spot again. Sam shrugged and kissed the woman's cheek before leaving her as instructed. He caught a glimpse of Steve framing Natasha's face in his hands, speaking too softly for him to pick up on what they were saying before the redhead caught his eyes and shut the bathroom door. Sam smirked at the sight of her draped in sheets with her hair a flaming mess, coming to the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who got lucky last night. But the Director's stern glare fixed upon him and gloved fingers templed under his chin caused his focus to regain.

"Do you always wear black trench coats?- I'm just asking because I would imagine it would get hot in certain circumstances." Before Fury could even grace the question with an answer, Natasha and Steve entered into the main room again, fully clothed much to everyone's pleasure. "Now that you're all here, there's something I gotta say." The Director chimed in, rising to his feet and noticing how they tensed up in anticipation-

"I'm pulling you all out of this mission."

"That's not your call, Fury!" Steve raised his voice, his fist slamming down on surface of the desk he was standing by. He couldn't keep his cool with all the stress put on him those past couple of days, and to find it was for nothing. "Bucky is still out there- He could be in danger." Natasha placed a hand on the Captain's shoulder that slumped in defeat as he spoke the truth he tried so hard to forget. "Not to mention all the people Barnes himself has put in danger, or did you forget how much destruction he's caused with your head full of delusions?" Steve snapped his head up at those words, his fingers clenching by his side before Natasha's hand skimmed down his arm and encompassed his fist. "Look, Steve. You have good intentions- But good intentions don't always produce good results. This rescue mission was stagnate until Agent Romanov joined you guys- and now I need her. You of all people should know when it's time to retreat." Fury gave the closest to a sympathetic frown at the group standing shocked in front of him before rising out of the chair to leave. "There's a car waiting outside. Your plane ride to New York will leave in an hour." He clapped Steve on the shoulder which made the soldier jolt in surprise, his mind still warped in the information that he had to stop searching for Bucky and the memories, or 'delusions' as the Director called it. The trio stared in silent shock at each other as the door slammed shut and they were left alone with the reality of their situation once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another twist in the story. Sorry about that. Like I said in the author's notes in the last chapter, I'll be traveling so updating will be out of whack. I apologize in advance if I don't post something soon. But I doubt anyone's too worried, I'll be back. :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone for being patient and sticking around for this story, it means a lot! Feel free to hit me up anytime.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to upload again soon. Any feedback as to if I should continue this story would be widely appreciated and inspirational. Thanks so much.


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